Ah, That Mouth
by ILoveJorja
Summary: Grissom and Sara meet at that seminar in San Francisco. Their budding relationship and impressions of each other. Alternating POVs. My first pre-Vegas fic. GSR.
1. Chapter 1

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER ONE**

Gilbert Grissom, Ph.D., wanted Sara Sidle the first time he saw her mouth. He was 40, she was 25, a pretty young co-ed (_did they still say co-ed?_ he wondered). His eyes traveled delightedly up and down her body. She'd approached the podium, answering his prayers, once the lecture was over. Up, up, and then down, down, down. _Sweet_ _Jesus. What legs_.

So he was distracted, to say the least, and didn't become acquainted with Sara's mouth until some time later. Those bare legs in cute little shorts were worth a prize alone, a blue ribbon, but combined with that sweet round ass and two generous handfuls of breasts, a perfect 10 and an Olympic gold medal were in order. Then there was the long coltish body, fetching curly chestnut brown hair tied in a loose ponytail, and a face that could launch navies. _Wow._

Grissom was smitten, without a doubt, the first time she spoke to him and shook his hand.

"Hi. I'm Sara Sidle."

Not exactly momentous words, but it was a historic moment for him.

"Gil Grissom. A pleasure."

"Likewise."

She turned her head and glanced down at her notebook, where she'd scribbled a few notes of what to ask him. She knew she would get flustered, and forget all about time-lines and species of beetles and tape-lifting techniques. Sara was flustered already; hot and bothered and dry-mouthed and pink in the face. The past three hours of his lecture had flown by. All that she could think about now was that she wanted to keep talking to him without a bunch of bored college students listening along.

Grissom was charmed by the tilt of her head and her lovely profile.

Sara was infatuated by his masculine build, handsome face, his deep and compelling voice, his passion for his subject, and that thing that happens only once in a lifetime. That bolt from the heavens. Yet instead of saying anything, she studied his eyes from her new proximity. They were startlingly blue, and kind, and intelligent, and she couldn't stop looking into them.

They were staring at each other, mesmerized, for long minutes, when a dropped textbook from the hands of a newly arrived student jerked them back into reality.

Sara instantly started babbling. Grissom shuffled his feet.

When she paused for breath, Grissom blurted out, "Would you like to go for coffee?"

"Yeah! Sure. Sounds great." Sara hurriedly gathered her things and looked at him expectantly.

"Oh! Uh...I only got in last night. I don't know where any coffee shops are," he said awkwardly. _Should have thought this out, Stud._

"That's cool. I know just the place, where we can talk without having to yell over the music," said Sara, surprising herself with her own smoothness.

Sara gave him a big easy grin. Grissom almost keeled over. _Damn. What a mouth. What a smile._ _I'd like to...I want to...Mmm, kiss it and explore it with my tongue..._

They walked side by side to the Java Joint, four long blocks away, glancing nervously at each other, and wondering what in hell to talk about. Grissom didn't care what she said, as long as he could see that dazzling smile again and hear her warm throaty voice. But he knew he'd have to say _something_, soon, or that wouldn't happen.

Grissom thought_, "Do you want to bear my children?"_ sounded a little, well, _sudden_.

Sara thought, "_Wanna go back to my place and screw?_"sounded a little, well, _brazen_.

The handwritten menu in chalk behind the counter interrupted their lascivious thoughts for a few minutes. Grissom asked Sara's advice and then said to the barista, "I'll have what she's having." Grissom added a cream-filled cannoli, to share, to the order. He thought that was pretty brave of him, and shot her a look to see if she agreed, but she was looking for a free table. They found a cast-iron table in the corner.

Sara put her arms on the glass top of the table and instantly regretted it. It was sticky, and wobbled. She wrinkled her nose.

"Hey. Let me..." Grissom wadded up a bunch of paper napkins, jiggled the table experimentally, and shoved them under the correct leg. This time there was no doubt that she was impressed. A vision of pearly whites had his tongue cleaving to the roof of his mouth. _Wow. God she's hot._ _And that little gap in her teeth? Whew. Wonder what that would feel like along my...stop! Behave yourself._

Instead of talking, he poured a little water on another wad of napkins and swished it around the tabletop, lifting her arms carefully. She was wearing a sleeveless little red number and the skin contact gave both of them a buzz of electricity.

_Sheesh, I'm falling for her, and I only know her name. No, I do know she is intelligent and curious and well-educated, and, I mean, hell, _Look_ at her! She's a knockout!_

_So what if he's a little older than me. Mature, brilliant, good-looking, confident...I'm a goner._

Boldly, he dabbed a clean napkin in his water and ran it up and down her bare arms. Visions of a naked Sara in a shower, kissing him and stroking him while he washed her wet body, paraded in his head. His dick began to swell.

Fantasies of the two of them on a tropical island, swimming in the pool of a waterfall, kissing and groping each other...they were just about to start fucking when Sara realized they'd been sitting there for at least ten minutes and she hadn't said a word.

"So."

"So?"

"So. Uh." _Sew, a needle pulling thread...Say something, Sidle!_

"Hey! Have you been to San Francisco before?"

"Not really. Just passed through, doing seminars," Grissom smiled a little, grateful for a topic of conversation.

Sara took the in, and complimented him warmly on his seminar. Grissom beamed at her. He batted some compliments back at her, telling her how nice it was to have a student with such a keen interest in science and forensics and obvious natural curiosity and intelligence. Sara beamed back at him, and they remained that way as their cappuccinos cooled.

He split the pastry and pushed the plate to her. Sara took a big bite and a bit of cream stuck to her upper lip. Grissom was hard as a rock now and he considered leaping across the table, sucking it off, and then...she licked it off. Slowly.

Sara watched his smoldering eyes and smiled to herself. _Well it isn't just me. That's nice._

Grissom lifted and took a bite of his half, slowly, then cunningly licked at the creamy center. As expected, Sara thought of his tongue licking a certain part of her body, and that place instantly became hotter and wetter and more aroused.

They finished their dessert, gazing at each other longingly.

Grissom's cell phone rang. _Damn it._ He excused himself, got up in an awkward motion to try to conceal the obvious bulge in his trousers, and moved to the back of the coffee shop.

"Grissom. Yes, Catherine, what is it," he growled.

_Catherine? Wife? No, he wasn't wearing a wedding band. Girlfriend?_

Grissom finished his conversation briskly, then continued to the men's room, where he jacked off and cleaned himself up in record time. Just the memory of that tongue sweeping up and swirling off the cream...he imagined it was _his _cream and, whoops, there it was.

He returned to the table, pleased that she'd ordered another round of Italian coffees and another pastry, and feeling considerably more at ease.

Grissom politely apologized for the wait and Sara smiled tensely.

"Everything all right?" she blurted.

Grissom gave her a strange look. _She couldn't know that I was..._

"On the phone, I mean."

"Oh. Uh, my colleague, Catherine Willows. Wanted some advice on a case." Sara let out a breath. _Colleague, whew. Didn't sound like he was eager to talk to her, either. Yay!_

Understanding the meaning behind her words, and her look of relief, Grissom asked in turn, "So, does your boyfriend mind, you having coffee with your professor?"

Sara looked down and smiled. "No, no boyfriend, no worries."

"Really?" Grissom asked, honestly puzzled. _Were all these guys gay, or what?_ "I...I'm surprised. I mean, you're attractive, you're bright..."

"Thank you. Let's just say...sometimes brains can be intimidating. And I'm serious about studying, and that turns some guys off."

"I know what you mean. It's hard to have a good relationship when you're always working or studying."

"Exactly." A look of understanding passed between them.

Sara started asking him questions about anthropology, and they slipped into an intense and lengthy conversation.

The barista turned the lights on, and both Grissom and Sara looked up surprised.

"Oh!" Sara said. "Guess I missed my afternoon class." She glanced at her watch. "Yeah, it ended...two hours ago."

Grissom apologized, but Sara wouldn't hear of it. "I'm sure I learned more here than I would have there. And I know I enjoyed it more."

Grissom was touched. It was rare for anyone to be so enthralled with his conversation, and frankly he was enthralled by hers too. He stammered something to that effect.

"So...can I walk you to your...dorm, apartment?"

"Sure, my apartment is not far." He took her arm and they made their way out of the coffee shop and strolled up the street, admiring the purplish blue sky of early evening. Grissom pointed out the first star of the evening, the planet Venus, and told her that the planet was named after the goddess of love..._and now it will always remind me of you_.

The closer they got to her door, however, the more awkward it became. _Should I kiss her? Ask her for another date? Go inside?_

_Should I kiss him? Ask him inside? What will he think of me?_

By the time she was fumbling for her keys, both were a nervous wreck.

"Hey. Uh. I had a really nice time." Sara looked up at him hopefully.

"Me too. Um. Can I see you tomorrow?"

"Sure. After class?"

"Class. Right." Grissom had completely forgotten he was teaching a seminar in forensics. "Maybe...you could show me some of San Francisco?"

"I'd love to." She flashed her million watt smile at him and he was bewitched.

Sara bit back a laugh at his bemused expression, and surprised them both by giving him a tiny little kiss on the cheek.

"Good night, Grissom."

"Good night, Sara."

She was inside and the door closed before he was able to move.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER TWO**

Grissom awoke from the most erotic dream he'd had in years, his cock as hard as a third hand. He practically ran to the shower and jerked off, just to relieve the painful pressure, then stood under the warm spray and tried to remember his dream. _Sara. Sara was...and I was..._

His hand moved slowly and then faster over his thickening, dripping cock. He held just one image of her, her smile and that gap in her teeth, and he ejaculated so powerfully his ears rang. _Holy shit. I only met her yesterday. She's a student. Down, boy._

_Can't help it,_ the devil side of him answered. _I've never been so smitten and so instantly attracted. And by the way she looked at me, and how the electricity tingled when I cleaned her arms, she feels it too. God, I'm glad we have a date today, after class, and I can look at her in the classroom_.

Sara arrived for his class early, but since other students were filtering in, she wasn't able to say anything. Instead she flashed him a big happy grin and he grinned back, then kept staring at her. Like a goof. Sara noticed that all the other students were getting settled and giving him strange looks, nudging and murmuring, so she signaled for him to get on with it. Grissom understood. He tore his eyes away from the vision before him.

He cleared his throat and began, grateful he had a podium to stand behind so his arousal wasn't obvious. Against his will, his eyes kept wandering in Sara's direction, but she smiled a little shyly and dropped her eyes. Every time their eyes met he would stammer and forget his place in his lecture, so he skipped the last third of his notes and took questions instead. Sara's hand shot up.

"Yes, Miss Sidle?"

"Can you tell us more about what got you interested in forensics?"

He crinkled his eyes at her warmly. "I always had an interest in anatomy, and insects, and I became a coroner my senior year as an undergraduate. The head coroner took an interest in me, and started sending me out to crime scenes, not just to pronounce, but to learn from crime scene investigators. The insect activity on bodies intrigued me, and I started reading up on that."

Grissom took a breath.

"I guess I have a fascination with solving mysteries, so I took classes to become proficient, and worked as a CSI Level One while I finished my Master's, and then took my Ph.D. in Forensic Entomology."

"And has the work been what you expected?" Sara asked before anyone else could be acknowledged.

"Good question. I can tell you honestly that it isn't a job for everyone. The smell of rotting flesh generally puts all but the really dedicated ones off their first day." The class chuckled, and Grissom remembered his audience and looked around the room.

"Then there is the blood and gore of the scenes, and having to talk to bereaved family members on the worst day of their lives. It's tough. Knowing what horrors people are capable of, well, it is sobering, to say the least. There is a high burnout rate in our job. But if you can find satisfaction in finding evidence, solving crimes, and doing your best to make sure the perpetrators are punished, then this is a very rewarding career."

Sara looked at him admiringly and he smiled a little, his cheeks pink, and then forced himself to pick out other raised hands. The other questions were not nearly as insightful, or were repetitions of material he had already covered, which made him sigh and fight the urge to fidget.

When a bored male student who had dozed through most of both lectures asked him his least favorite question, "Is this going to be on the test?" Grissom gave up. He told the whole class that the most important quality of being a CSI was to be observant and attentive and remember every detail, no matter how seemingly unimportant. There is always something to learn from every case, he said. Then he told them curtly that it was enough for the day.

Sara lingered, pretending to finish writing and put her notes away. Two girls approached and asked if she'd like to get some lunch.

"No, you go ahead. I've got some studying to do, so I'll grab something later."

"He's hot, isn't he, for an older guy?"

"Yeah." Sara smiled in agreement, biting back the urge to yell, _Back off! He's mine! I'm going on another date with him, now!_

"Yeah," the shorter one said. "I wouldn't mind being _his_ teacher's pet. But I think that position has already been filled." She shot a look at Sara, who glared at her. The girls wandered off, giggling to each other.

Grissom approached her quietly, noting her angry pout. "Everything all right, Sara?"

"Hmm? Oh. Those girls. Called me a teacher's pet. I hate that."

"They're just jealous. Forget them."

Sara looked up at him and studied his eyes. Grissom studied hers, examining the remarkable golden brown irises minutely.

Grissom licked his dry lips. "So? Shall we go? You promised to be my tour guide today."

Sara flashed him a grin and he felt his heart soar. _We're going to spend the day together!_

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER THREE**

They spent the day doing touristy things. Grissom's enthusiasm was contagious, and Sara enjoyed both being a tourist and a tour guide. The pair rode a cable car, visited Chinatown, (where they had a big lunch) and went to the famous park with a spectacular view of the Golden Gate Bridge. They tried to remember all the movies that had been filmed there, and Grissom told her of the similar park in New York that had a great view of the Brooklyn Bridge. They watched the various ships moving into and out of the harbor, talking of anything and everything. Sara pointed out Alcatraz Island and other landmarks.

A street photographer approached and told them what a handsome couple they were. He asked if they'd like to have their picture taken and they agreed, posing with the bridge behind them. Grissom paid for two copies, which they tucked away carefully in their wallets.

Reluctantly, Grissom and Sara returned to campus, as Sara had another class. She told him she needed to work on a term paper the next day, Sunday, and he nodded. Grissom told her where he was staying and gave her his cell phone number, asking her to call whenever she liked. Sara gave him her cell and home phone numbers and said she looked forward to seeing him again.

They stood outside the building, both hands linked longer than necessary, and looking affectionately at each other.

A teacher that Grissom knew approached, and he dropped her hands abruptly, which made a flash of disappointment pass through her eyes. He looked apologetic and she nodded and walked away.

"Yes, Dr. Berman, can I help you?"

The other man asked a few questions, which Grissom answered tersely.

Then Berman told him, "You know she is a student. Be careful, Gil."

"I'm aware of that. We are both adults."

"I'm just saying..."

"I know what you're saying. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Grissom strode away and took a taxi to his hotel. Before going up to his room, he went to the bar and had a double Scotch, trying to sort through his feelings and the consequences to both of them if he pursued a relationship with Sara. He could not come up with any clear answers, which made him sigh and order another, and then another. He just knew he wanted to keep in touch with her after he returned to Las Vegas, and if they were just to be friends, so be it.

He stumbled, half-drunk, to the elevator and passed out on the bed fully clothed.

Sara sat through her class, mostly lost in her own thoughts but taking notes automatically. She knew there was a mutual attraction and connection, but was troubled by his embarrassment when they were seen together. And she remembered he would be leaving soon, and lived in a different state, a long way away. She sighed.

_How can we be together?_

Sara went back to her tiny apartment and took a shower, imagining his muscular naked body in there with her. She went to bed, still thinking of Grissom, his face, his eyes, his lips, just begging to be kissed. They would be soft and warm and giving, she decided. Her hand traveled down to her breast and she imagined his mouth there, and became warm and wet. She knew he would be an experienced lover, not like the college boys who just wanted a quick lay and get their rocks off.

Sara imagined his skill at giving her pleasure and her fingers explored herself and rubbed her erect clitoris as she thought of just one image, the large tightly defined muscles in his forearms, and how those muscles rippled when he moved his arms or flexed his fingers, and she brought herself off in a powerful orgasm and then some others, gentler but satisfying. Hugging a pillow with another between her knees, she fell asleep.

**TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**AH, THAT MOUTH **

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Grissom tried to sleep late Sunday but he was too restless. He paced his hotel room, not knowing what to do. Go over his notes? He had them memorized. Watch TV? Read a journal? Grissom's thoughts kept wandering to Sara and what she might be doing. Sleeping? Her brown hair splayed across the pillow, a skimpy tank top riding up, her lips...ah those lips...slightly parted. He took his cell phone and called everyone in turn back at the lab. Only Catherine and Brass were awake, and neither were doing much, just going over case files. He asked about their cases but when Catherine began to ask personal questions, hearing a different tone in his voice, he begged off and hung up. Then he apologized to Nick and Warrick for waking them up.

_Rats! That only took an hour! Now what? __I could go to...or maybe...but I'd rather do that with...Sara. Sara. I just met her, what, 2 days ago? And I...and I...I miss her._

He went out on the tiny balcony and looked at the view, idly watching the pedestrians and traffic.

_Is that? That looks like Sara!_ Grissom dashed inside, grabbed his shoes, put them on in the elevator, and ran out the lobby to the street wildly. His hair was ruffled, shirttails flapping, but he didn't care. He whipped his head around trying to catch sight of that brown-haired girl, but couldn't find anyone who looked remotely like her. Sighing, he returned to his room, showered, dressed more properly, and went for a walk. Idly, he gazed at store windows as he strode by, cell phone secured in his jacket pocket. _Hmm. Maybe I'll buy her a little present._ Grissom brightened at the thought, finally having a purpose. _What, though? Way too soon for jewelry. Clothes? What, lingerie? Please. You're a dirty old man. Am I? Is she too young? _He glowered, thinking hard. _Never mind that now. She seems interested. Back to a little gift. Flowers? A book? Music? Art? I don't know what her apartment is like...what she would need. What would Sara like?_

What would Sara like?

Sara, meanwhile, was having almost as much trouble concentrating as Gris. She had fixed herself a pot of coffee and was lounging at her desk in pajamas with a stack of notes. The file with her term paper was open on the word processor before her, but could she string an intelligent sentence together? No. Her thoughts wandered. _Would it be that wrong to date a professor? I'm over 18. What's the worst that could happen? I'll have to ask...ask Grissom. What's he doing now? Could I call? He did say I could anytime...but everyone says that...don't want to sound desperate. But I am desperate!_ She scrolled to the end of the file and worked on the bibliography, as that at least was fairly mindless.

As the hours passed both became more fixated on the thought of the other, and struggled to resist or give in to the impulse to make that phone call. Grissom finally decided on what to give Sara, and with that as an excuse, set down his packages and dialed her number.

"Hi, Sara."

"Grissom!" She sounded so delighted that his heart filled with gladness.

"What are you doing?"

"Staring at a computer screen. Trying to get up the nerve to call you." Sara made a throaty chuckle, and Grissom was charmed.

_Just like I was!_ "Want to take a break?"

"Love to. What do you have in mind?" _Have in mind? Taking you to bed..._

"A picnic."

"Great idea. Where?"

"Well, I was hoping you could suggest a park or..."

"I know just the place," Sara said brightly, and rattled off directions. Before long, Grissom's taxi pulled up and Sara grinned at him and grabbed a bag. He gave her a dopey smile in return and let her lead them to a picnic bench. Sara had already spread a plastic tablecloth and anchored it with a handful of utensils, glasses, and condiments.

"I didn't know what you were bringing..."

"You did well," Grissom told her. He dug out the food–a bag full of fresh fruit, an assortment of cheeses, a hard sausage, a loaf of French bread, and with a flourish, a bottle of white wine. He even remembered a bottle opener. Sara watched him pull out the cork. Their eyes smiled at each other as they clinked glasses.

"A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou," Grissom quoted.

"Beside me singing in the Wilderness/ Oh, Wilderness were Paradise enow! Omar Khayyam," Sara supplied.

Grissom's eyebrow went up and he looked impressed. "You know poetry, too?"

"Some," she answered. "I read when I can't sleep."

"Oh." Grissom thought of her in bed again, and became tongue-tied and felt tingly inside.

"This is...really nice," she murmured, and they sipped.

Sara took a large peach, sniffed it appreciatively, and bit into it. "Umm," she moaned in pleasure at the taste. Grissom moaned inwardly at the sound and watched her bite into it, entranced. Watched her wide pink lips part, pearly teeth bite, and tongue emerge. Then she would kiss the flesh, sucking at the juice..._Who knew eating could be so erotic? _Even with the peach juice dripping down her chin, she managed to eat delicately and with grace.

"What?" Sara said, wiping off her fingers in a napkin.

"Huh? Nothing."

Her eyebrows knit briefly, but she decided it wasn't worth pursuing. "Hey, um," she began, snagging a piece of Edam with long elegant fingers "Yesterday?"

"Yes?"

"When that professor saw us..."

"Oh." Grissom looked away, feeling ashamed. "That."

"Yeah. Is it...a problem, being seen together?"

"Yes...no, uh, I don't really know. I'm sorry–about my reaction." He thought for a moment, acknowledging her forgiving nod. "I don't see why it would be, really. You're over 18...right?" he asked suddenly, looking at her.

Sara laughed. "Yes! I'm 25. Thank you."

"Twenty-five, right," he mused. "And I'm not on the faculty. I'll have to...inquire...about the policy. Discreetly. I hope it wouldn't affect these seminars. I enjoy them so...Of course, that depends on if you want to keep seeing me?" he said in a rush, suddenly feeling insecure.

Sara smiled at him warmly. "I do."

**TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER FIVE**

When they were done eating, Grissom told her the rest of the groceries were for her to take home.

"I remember being a graduate student. Ramen noodles and peanut butter sandwiches, day after hungry day. I craved fresh fruit–anything, really, that was out of my price range."

Sara smiled brightly. "Thank you. That's very thoughtful."

"You're welcome," he answered, drinking in the beauty of that smile and that girl.

They carried it back to her apartment. Sara shyly asked if he'd like to come in for coffee and he agreed, looking at her carefully to see if "coffee" meant more than that. Given her nervousness once he crossed the threshold, it didn't. Yet. Grissom was somewhat relieved. He didn't want to rush this, despite what his body was telling him, and the workout his hand was getting every night and every morning.

The apartment was small and spartan, just two rooms and a tiny kitchen. The fridge only held a can of coffee, a pint of milk, and some Chinese takeout boxes, Gris noticed. _I'm going to feed her. She needs to eat_, he decided. The furniture was clearly secondhand but clean. One wall was covered by a floor to ceiling bookcase. Grissom looked over the titles as the coffee brewed, commenting on some of them. Sitting side by side, they drank their coffee and discussed books and favorite authors. When it seemed the right time, Grissom politely excused himself, commenting that she probably needed to get back to her homework.

Sara smiled ruefully and agreed. _He really is a gentleman._ She walked him to the door and again gave him a peck on the cheek. This time he was prepared and gave her a little kiss on the cheek at the same time. They exchanged a pleased smile and said they looked forward to class the next morning.

Again Sara was the first student to arrive. She went straight to him and they both barely resisted the impulse to kiss hello. Only just. Instead he stroked a hand gently with a finger, and she offered him her palm. His eyes softened. The gesture seemed meaningful and he stored it away for later. She had brought an insulated mug of coffee and gave it to Grissom. He took a big sip, and smiled gratefully.

"Thank you, Sara. You...even remembered how I take it."

"Sure. CSIs need a good memory, right?"

"Right."

Before Sara took a seat in the front row, Grissom asked quietly, "Can I see you in my office, right after class?"

"Of course," she replied, a little troubled by his expression. There was no chance to say anything else, as the room was filling and the two girls that had teased Sara were crowding Grissom, openly flirting. _Probably to get a rise out of me_, she thought. _Bite me._

Grissom rolled his eyes at her over a shoulder and Sara snorted and pursed her lips at him in amusement. _Mmm. I like that. She looks like she's kissing the air–or blowing me a kiss_.

He sternly asked the blondes to take their seats and began.

"Today's lesson is an actual crime scene. Double murder in a garage. Your task is to evaluate the photos and come up with a workable theory. Before I show the first image, I need to warn you that these are extremely graphic images. If you're going to be sick, please do so outside." There were some uneasy chuckles. "The last time I showed these, there was a kind of...chain reaction. The smell of vomit alone can make another person sick." Now there was a serious kind of silence. Some of the students visibly braced themselves. Nevertheless, the first projected image, of a blood-spattered wall, caused a loud gasp. Two students stumbled out the back exits. Three others left when the images of the maggot-ridden bludgeoned bodies appeared.

Unperturbed, Grissom went through the crime scene slides one by one, explaining what they were seeing and asking what evidence was important and how and why it should be collected and analyzed. His gentle but no-nonsense manner encouraged open discussion, and soon there was a lively one between Sara and two male students who all had different theories. Sara's was correct. Grissom was deeply impressed with her perceptive insights but was careful not to show too much favoritism. He called on some students who were avoiding his eyes, asking leading questions until the topic seemed to draw to an end.

"All right. Good. Remember, first opinions are crucial, but if the evidence changes, so must the theory. Now please take out a sheet of paper and detail your theory of what happened in this garage–who, what, where, when, how. Back it up with relevant evidence and analysis, and turn it in by the end of the period. Next class we will find out how many of you were right. This is the first graded exercise."

A groan at that, and then their heads bowed and the gentle sound of pen on paper filled the auditorium. Grissom packed up his AV equipment and then reviewed the class roster, trying to learn more of the students' names, particularly the two boys, as they too showed promise, or at least enthusiasm. The bell rang and the students filed out, depositing their papers on the way.

Sara lingered, and when he nodded to her, followed Grissom to his office. Once inside with the door closed, he gestured for her to have a seat.

"I looked through the teacher's handbook and spoke to a friend on the faculty this morning," he began, glancing at her and then staring at his desk. "There is a formal written policy, stating intimate relationships between teachers and students are forbidden."

"Oh." Sara bit her lip and looked so disappointed that he was both troubled and touched.

"Then there is age difference and reputation to think of, both mine and yours. Impropriety–even the appearance of it-on my part would negatively impact teaching job offers, and might even lead to a formal investigation at my crime lab in Vegas. Your exemplary academic record would have a permanent blot on it, your scholarship could be in jeopardy, and the question of your character and judgement could follow you into job interviews and offers." He blew out a frustrated sigh.

Sara stared at her hands twisting in her lap. There was an uneasy silence.

"But..."

Sara's head shot up. "But?" she repeated hopefully.

"But there is nothing to discourage a teacher mentoring a promising student."

"A mentor? Yes. I've never had...I'd like that," Sara responded gladly.

"And two adults becoming...friends," he said with a question in his voice.

"Friends..." Sara said thoughtfully. "Friends. This isn't the 'we can still be friends' breakup line?"

"No, honey." He shook his head energetically. _Honey?_

"Careful, Dr. Grissom. Friends don't call each other 'honey,'" she teased.

"Point taken, Miss Sidle." They smiled.

"So, uh, I'll see you in class, then," Grissom concluded.

"Just in class? Nowhere else?"

"Or...here, I suppose. During office hours."

"Alright." She stood, and after a moment, extended her hand. Grissom shook it firmly, looking her deeply in the eyes, holding a silent conversation of regret and resignation. _Make the best of it, _they agreed without words.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER SIX**

"All right, class," Grissom began, standing on the top step in front of a nondescript brick government building. "This is the San Francisco Crime Lab, and they're expecting us. That doesn't mean that we can monopolize their time, however. All crime labs, especially in big cities, are busy 24/7. Crime never stops. Evidence and cases are always time-sensitive."

He paused to let two squad cars zoom out of the parking lot and the sound of their sirens die away in the distance. _Exactly my point._ Sara caught his eye and smirked. He almost winked at her, knowing she was thinking the same thing, but caught himself in time. _It's like we share the same brain, sometimes. Never have I..._

He continued. "Try not to crowd the lab technicians or CSIs. Don't touch anything. Don't contaminate the evidence. No food, no drinks, no gum, in the labs. Turn off your cell phones, now, please." There was a rustle of movement as that was done. "You may ask questions, but respect that criminalists don't have time for chit-chat.." Grissom drew a breath. "Any questions?"

After a pause, he turned and led the way, musing on the similarity between a flock of sheep and a group of students on a field trip. The attendance had been cut by half, to about 18, since that exercise with the DBs in the garage, and five more had dropped out when their crime scene analyses came back with failing grades. _Weeding out. Sheep and goats_, he thought.

_What would that make Sara? As adaptable as a goat, and as intelligent when compared to a wooly–but definitely some more attractive animal. A fox, maybe, with that vulpine jaw–aren't attractive women called foxes?_

They stopped at the receptionist's desk. Grissom greeted her by name and asked for visitors' passes with such courtesy that she was charmed and blushing, Sara noted. _And yet this handsome man doesn't seem to notice how he makes women feel. _They signed in and filed from room to room. Most listened quietly to the spiel and gazed around wide-eyed. Only a few asked questions. But Sara seemed to come to life and be instantly at ease. Grissom allowed himself the luxury of studying her as she engaged everyone she met. _It's not just her looks. There's lots of beautiful girls in California. It's the combination. She is brilliant. Quick. Observant. With an astounding memory._

Sara Sidle asked intelligent questions of each professional and listened intently, not trying to impress, but doing so. All the men's eyes widened when they looked at her, and a few flirted. One musclebound blond CSI boldly asked her out, trailing his eyes up and down her body, but she shot him down so quickly and effortlessly that he was left slack-jawed at her retreating form. A few of the other girls snickered and the boys looked impressed and a little scared. _That's my girl._

Grissom paused at the large service elevator. "One last stop before we get back on the bus. The morgue. We're going to watch an autopsy. How many of you have ever seen a dead body?"

Five hands went up. One was Sara's, Grissom noticed with surprise.

"And the circumstances?"

"At a, uh...viewing," one of them replied, and the other three nodded.

"And you, Miss Sidle?"

Sara suddenly looked angry and defensive. "It was...a long time ago." She shut her mouth firmly and glared at him. Grissom conceded, filing that away.

In the basement, the air was cool and clammy and smelled. Grissom told them all to put on lab coats and latex gloves, and warned them before he pushed through the swinging doors.

"Hey, Doc," he said genially.

"Grissom!" the older man said cheerfully. "It's been forever. Still doing seminars, I see.

These your latest?"

Grissom made the introductions, remembering all but one boy's name, a gangly kid who had yet to say a word.

"Justin," he said, when he saw the professor struggling. His voice was soft.

"And Justin. Justin, this is Dr. Jackson. So, what do we have?" He turned to the coroner and the pale-bluish still body on the cold slab, a naked brown-haired girl.

"Cindy Blair, 25, single gunshot to the right temple. Apparently healthy, well nourished. Possible suicide. No exit wound. I was about to remove the bullet..."

"Before you do that, does anyone notice anything about the body? To confirm or refute suicide?"

The students shuffled around the body warily, as if she might jump up and attack. Sara, instead, leaned across Grissom's body, brushing down his chest to abdomen with her arm. He sucked in a breath, and she leaned into him, the warmth of his body penetrating every inch of her in contact with him. A pleasant shiver ran up her spine and her scalp tingled. Grissom felt her shiver and his hands trembled. He shoved them in his pockets of his lab coat and smothered a moan. _Do you know what you do to me?_ he mentally shouted at the back of her head. She wore her hair in a tight bun today, and he stared at her nape, wondering if she would shiver if he licked just...there. And ran his tongue up and into her pink shell of an ear...Sara was peering at the gunshot wound.

She straightened suddenly, her eyes bright with excitement.

"Has this body been washed?" Sara asked Dr. Jackson eagerly.

"Not yet."

"There's no gunshot residue in the wound. No stippling." Sara grabbed the dead girl's right hand without hesitation. "No GSR here either. And...there's bruising," she continued, turning the wrist with both hands. "Possible restraint. This was a homicide, Grissom."

"Well done," Grissom said proudly, a satisfied smile playing around his lips and a deep warmth settling in his heart. She grinned at him and it literally skipped a beat. The urge to kiss her, kiss that smile off and swallow it, was so strong he actually felt light-headed and wobbled a bit. _That would be something,_ he chuckled to himself, _to faint dead away during an autopsy. I'd never live it down._

He forced himself to look away from those milk-chocolate brown eyes, aglow with excitement. _He looked like he wanted to kiss me! Is that the key? To be his star pupil? _

"Justin!" Grissom blurted the first name that came to mind. "What's our next step?"

"Remove the bullet? Check it...Was a gun found with the body?"

"There was." The coroner smiled at the boy, and he relaxed. "Check the bullet against one test-fired from the weapon," Justin said with more confidence, basking in the look Grissom gave him as well. "Run fingerprints. Go over the crime scene photos. Interview..." he trailed off and blushed when Sara also smiled at him encouragingly.

"Good work, Justin. You may not say much, but that's because you're listening," Gris told him, and he grinned.

Grissom continued around the ring, asking and answering questions. His enjoyment of interacting with young curious minds was clear. And the students picked up on that, and that two of their own had succeeded in impressing this great man. They vied to earn his approval, but in a friendly way. The good mood lasted all the way back to campus, with cheerful conversations from every seat on the bus. Sara was all but bouncing in her seat. The students went their separate ways in twos and threes until it was just the two of them.

Grissom smiled at her. "Lunch? Martino's?"

"You bet!" She bounded down the steps and away, chattering like a mockingbird. Grissom practically had to jog to keep up with those long legs.

She plopped into a booth, Grissom across the table from her.

"This is it!" she announced. Sara was glowing. Grissom waved off the waitress, feeling this was an important moment.

"What is?"

"This is what I've been leading up to, Gris. My whole life. I know, now. I know what I want to do. I want to be a CSI. Not a physicist."

"Really? You're sure?" Her enthusiasm was a marvel.

"Yes. I'm sure. And I have you to thank." Impulsively, she lunged across the Formica table and grabbed both sides of his face. And planted a big moist kiss on his lips.

**TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Grissom was stunned. Dumbfounded. It was just a kiss; just barely a kiss at that. But it felt like his lips had touched an electric fence. _Zing! __Wow. Just. Wow. _He couldn't move, or speak, or gather his thoughts. Just want..._More._ He gripped the table to keep from leaping on Sara and bending her backwards in a scorching kiss.

Sara giggled nervously at his blank, bewildered expression, a blush filling her cheeks. When he didn't say anything for what felt like the longest time, she stammered out, "Um. Sorry? That was...inappropriate...I shouldn't have..." _I'm not sorry. I knew it would be hot...but I underestimated how much._

"Don't apologize. It was..." Grissom couldn't come up with an adjective of what her lips felt like against his, what had flashed through his nervous system in that fraction of a second. _She looks so young...what did that mean exactly? To her? Just a friendly...impulse? What should I do? Say?_

Sara grinned at him, her eyes flashing knowingly. "Yeah. It was."

The waitress swooped in then, and the moment was gone, other than a promise of what could be.

"So, what do you think?" Sara asked, sipping her hot coffee.

"Think?" He looked surprised. _I think I'm falling for you._

Sara examined his expression for a moment. His eyes flicked from hers to her lips, to every part of her face, hair, torso, and back to her eyes and mouth again. Sara quirked an eyebrow. She hadn't quite mastered his subtlety yet, but there was...a kind of...wistfulness? desire? in his eyes, that wasn't there five minutes ago.

"About my...ambitions," she amended.

"Oh!" Grissom shook himself from his reverie of a deeper, more prolonged, more passionate kiss...and not just one...and not just on her lips. "I think you would be an excellent CSI. I think...you could be almost anything you wanted...but you show a natural aptitude and real talent for forensics."

A brilliant smile dazzled him. "Really?"

"Um hm." _Oh, what that gap does to me. Hot damn._

"Wow. Thank you," Sara was blushing deeper now, touched and pleased.

"You're acing my seminar. Mastering the course work. And keeping me on my toes, with your questions."

She pursed her lips, looking flattered. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it. It's a pleasure to...mentor you."

She frowned. Grissom mirrored it, kicking himself for deflecting this...whatever it was... "Yeah. Mentor," Sara said reluctantly. "Uh, so what's my next step?"

"Enroll in a course. As many classes as you can. Anatomy, physiology, criminal justice, the list is long. Then an internship, maybe?"

"It'll be tough to add to my course load. Work on my thesis. And keep my part-time job..."

"You work, too?"

She smiled at him. "Yeah. In a garage. I'm a mechanic."

"Really?" Grissom said, impressed, again. "How do you...did you get interested in that?"

"Oh, my brother showed me the basics. I like to take stuff apart and figure out how it works, and how to fix it. And it pays better than waiting tables, you know?"

"I'm sure," he chuckled. "That's an asset, to becoming a CSI. Mechanical expertise. We process vehicles all the time."

"Good."

"But it sounds like, with your schedule, that something will have to give."

"Yes. What, though."

He let her decide.

"Theoretical physics courses," she said at last. "Still try to get my Master's, though. Good thing I don't sleep."

"You don't sleep?" He looked concerned.

"Well, not much. Four or five hours a night. I mean, you did it, work as a coroner and CSI and study and finish your thesis, right?"

"Right. I'd be glad to...

"Yes?"

"Help you, as I can. Advise. Tutor you. Introduce you around, once you're on track. Keep in touch?"

"I'd like that. Very much. Phone, email, what?"

"Both. Here." He pulled out his business card and added his home phone and email address to the crime lab and cell numbers.

"Can I have another card?"

"Sure." He handed her one. Sara scribbled all her contact information on the back and gave it back. He put it away reverently.

"And, Grissom?"

"Yes?"

"I really appreciate this. And I'm glad we're going to keep in touch, after you go back, to Vegas. See each other again," she finished shyly, with a tentative, wistful smile. "I hope."

"Sara, I have a feeling we'll never lose touch. And we will see each other again."

They smiled.

**TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER EIGHT**

As could be expected, once Sara decided on the path of her life, she threw herself wholeheartedly into achieving that ambition. After all, she hadn't skipped a grade in high school, become emancipated on her 18th birthday, and gotten a full ride to Harvard by being a slacker. She explained to two of her professors that she had to drop their courses to take on forensics. They offered to let her take her finals early so she would get full credit, and to write her glowing letters of recommendation, without Sara even having to ask. She felt sure she was on the right path, and every day brought her nearer to her goal.

Grissom and Sara made a conscious effort to spend as much time as possible together–as student and professor-before the summer semester and his seminar came to an end, but her free time was much more limited now. The remaining two weeks sped by. She worked nights at the garage, squeezed in a few hours of sleep before morning classes, then took a bus to another college for criminalistics in the afternoons. With self-discipline and no social life, Sara also stuck to a schedule of two hours in the library and two hours on her thesis every day. Sara met Grissom in his office at least once a day, reviewing her new course work, and deciding how to proceed. He made sure he had something healthy for her to eat every time, or she wouldn't have had more than the bare necessity. They shared their meals companionably as she rattled off questions. They had lively debates. And of course she was in class right on time, hanging on his every word.

One evening Sara was typing away on her computer, determined to finish a chapter before work. The phone rang.

"Sara?"

"Grissom! Hey." _Huh? I just left his office...three hours ago._

"Hey." He cleared his throat. There was a pause. _I had this all rehearsed. What happened?_

She suddenly felt worried. "Is something wrong?"

"No! No, I mean...I'd like to, um...there's a..." _I'm forty years old. Not like I've never asked a girl for a date before! Get it together._

Sara smiled at his bashful tone, but restrained herself from laughing at him. _Is he asking me out?_

"There'," Grissom blurted out.

"A what? A dinner?" she asked kindly, willing him to relax.

Apparently he felt it, and laughed at his own nervousness. She joined in, once she felt it wouldn't hurt his feelings. "Yes. A dinner, and dance. It's a kind of a...mixer? To mark the end of the semester. All the faculty is invited, and, um, we can bring a date."

"And you're asking me..." Sara had to make sure.

"To go with me."

"Oh! I'd be happy to. Is it formal?"

"Yes. Not black tie, but dressy." Grissom felt almost...giddy? And so did Sara. A real date. It was the night before he had to fly back to Las Vegas. It felt fitting, then, to get all dressed up for each other. They went over the details, agreeing for him to pick her up in a taxi beforehand, assured each other that they were looking forward to it, and said their goodbyes. Sara got the night off from work by agreeing to work overtime the rest of the weekend. _After all, Grissom will be gone. I'll need to distract myself._

The night arrived. As did Grissom's taxi, exactly on time. He squared his shoulders, ran a hand through his hair, and knocked nervously on her apartment door. It flew open, and he jumped. He teased her for startling him, and she made her throaty chuckle, making him smile.

They took a moment to look each other over. Grissom was in a black suit, very well cut, with a soft silver tie that brought out the distinguished grey in his temples, and shining black dress shoes. Sara was in a pale blue flowing silk dress, with an Empire waist and spaghetti straps, low-cut in the back. With deliberately modest heels, they were exactly the same height, he noted.

She saw him looking at her feet. "I'm not terribly graceful in high heels," she explained.

"Nor am I." Again that charming laugh, that made him glad to be a man, and her date.

"You look...lovely." Grissom said softly.

"Thank you. You look great too. Really."

"Here. For you." He stepped forward and handed her a bouquet of small red and white roses with baby's breath. She took it with a warm smile, took two steps and was in her kitchen, then found and filled a glass to put them in. Just before she dunked them in, she extracted one white rose and approached Grissom. She snapped off the stem and fitted it in his boutonniere with a shy smile, then smoothed his lapels. Her palms lingered on his chest and they exchanged a sudden, serious, smoldering look. Sara held her breath, face to face with this intoxicating man, letting him decide whether to seize this moment or not. _We've already kissed_, they thought simultaneously.

Grissom tilted his head and brushed his lips over hers, then back. Just a whisper of contact. _So warm. So soft. _Her lips parted and pressed against his. He deepened the kiss gradually. Sara made an oh! noise that became a moan of need. _Like velvet. Like a dream...a perfect fit._ Grissom felt a tightness of desire in his belly. Sara's knees felt weak. She threw both arms around his neck, the back of one arm pressing his head to hers, the other palm against his shoulder blade. Grissom's hands cradled her skull, his fingers sliding through her chestnut curls. _Taste so good. Feel so good. Oh Sara._ She hummed encouragingly against his mouth and his tongue explored her. It ran across that gap in her teeth and then slid along her tongue. She sucked on it, hard, and held it lightly between her teeth. Grissom growled. _Yes. Mine. You are mine._

He pulled away at last, both of them breathless and aroused. They studied each other, recovering. He rested his forehead against hers.

"Shall we...go?"

"Do we have to?" she said breathily.

He smirked. "Temptress. C'mon." Grissom took her hand, she grabbed her bag, and they left, exchanging one more soft kiss in the back of the taxi.

They made a beeline for the bar without question, both needing to steady their quivering nerves. Grissom had a snort of malt whiskey, Sara a grasshopper. His eyes flashed at her choice.

"In your honor, Doctor of Entomology," she said throatily.

He quirked an eyebrow. "I'm touched, Miss Sidle. You realize..."

"Yes?"

"You will taste like chocolate and mint, now," he finished, his voice deep and seductive.

Sara shivered. They exchanged another longing look. Grissom turned away first. He took her arm and approached a colleague, a professor of chemistry.

"Dr. Armstrong."

"Dr. Grissom?"

"I'd like you to meet Sara Sidle, my..." _Student? No! Protegee? No. Girlfriend.?_

"Date," Sara filled in smoothly, and shook his proffered hand.

"My pleasure." Armstrong answered, eyeing her. "What do you do, Sara?"

"I'm working on my Master's in theoretical physics," Sara answered. "And studying to be a CSI."

"What's a pretty girl like you doing with this creepy bug guy?" He chuckled, leering at her. "And why on earth would you want to work with gory dead bodies?"

Sara stiffened her spine. She forced herself to be civil. "Dr. Grissom is renowned in his field. As well as one of the best CSIs in the country. And he is an...inspiring lecturer."

"No doubt. To each his own! You don't faint at the sight of blood, I suppose."

"No, I do not. I don't think appearance has anything to do with ability...or a strong stomach...or especially, intelligence."

"Point taken," Dr. Armstrong said grudgingly. "You have your hands full with her, Gil."

They both glared at him, but shook hands and moved on.

And then it was a whirl of introductions, faces and suits and formal dresses and handshakes. Sara introduced Grissom to her professors and he to the ones he knew. Speeches during dinner, sitting together but forcing themselves to talk to the faculty members on the other side, and join in the table's inane conversation. They pecked at the limp salad, cold roasted chicken and baby vegetables, and warm rolls with real butter. Grissom hopped up and got her another drink whenever it emptied, matching her drink for drink but showing no effects. She switched to soda water when she started feeling fuzzy. And was glad she did so, as when the music started, she was asked to dance right away. A fresh face, and a pretty one with a nice figure at that, had attracted the attention of nearly every single man in the room. One after another whirled her around the dance floor. Grissom politely asked the wives of his colleagues to dance in turn, keeping up a polite conversation with each, and an eye on Sara, making sure none of the men got too close or too handsy.

Sara finally refused another dance and made her way to a barstool, her feet stinging.

"Ice water with a twist of lemon, please."

Grissom appeared at her elbow. They smiled.

"Having a good time?" he asked.

"Yeah. Not as much fun as with you, though."

His smile broadened. "Then you and I it is, for the rest of the night."

_Hmm. All night?_ Sara eyed him speculatively.

He blushed at his implication, then coughed. "Shall we dance?"

"Love to." Sara beamed at him.

Grissom was a good dancer. He didn't bother with fancy moves or footwork, just shuffled and swayed in time to the music, letting his girl's hips follow his with ease. He had a way of holding a girl by the waist and hand with warmth but carefully, as if she was precious. But what made each dance an experience in seduction was the way he looked closely in her eyes. Never away. With a softness and heat in his gaze that made everything else melt away, the room, the other people, the sounds of conversation, the floor...until she was captured in those ocean blue eyes. Sara was entranced. His large hand glided from her waist to hip and up the smooth expanse of skin of her back. She toyed with his thick curly hair and stroked his neck and firm jaw. She tightened her grip around his muscled back and the space between them closed. Grissom pulled her hand to his heart to create some appearance of propriety. _If she grinds her hips to mine, I'm lost._

"Grissom?"

"Hmm?" He too was caught in her soft dewy eyes.

"Are you trying to seduce me?"

He quirked a crooked smile.

"Because if you are, it's working."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Wanna blow this pop stand?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

"Meet you outside in ten."

**TBC**

**A/N:** If you've ever seen a WP movie in which he dances–The Beast, or especially Gunshy–you will recognize what I mean by his seductive eyes. And his kisses? Hoo doggies.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note Note: Grissom's invitation was all squished together, and FFnet decided that was a no-no. So it went like: "There's a dinner dance for faculty and visiting lecturers..."

Also, there were some questions about my author's note last chapter. The edited version of The Beast has no love story between Whip Dalton and that female Coast Guard officer, including their dance. The _long version_–way too long, over 4 hours, with far too many scenes of the rubbery squid–has the love story. Which is the best part of the movie. So get your mitts on that version to watch Billy work his magic. And my condolences to my British fans, who apparently can't find Gunshy on DVD or video. Excellent movie. Is there another WP movie with him dancing? I can't remember.

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER NINE**

The amorous couple tumbled into the back of a taxi. Sara blurted out her address and there was no more conversation for the rest of the ride, just hot sloppy kisses and exploring hands. The cabbie had difficulty getting them to pry their lips apart long enough to pay the fare and get out, but eventually they stumbled up the stairs to Sara's door. They fell inside.

Grissom's tie went in one direction and his jacket in another. They both kicked off their shoes. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her against his, his erection pressing against her crotch, and their mouths tangled in a deep kiss. The phone rang. Sara flinched and tried to ignore it. Grissom never had the luxury, as a CSI Level 3, to ignore a phone call, so he pulled away and raised his eyebrows with a look of inquiry. Sara puffed out a frustrated sigh and answered the phone.

"Hello? Jack." She said shortly.

"No, tomorrow. I know! What time?"

"Look, I can't talk now. I'll..."

"I'm hanging up now...I'll talk to you tomorrow, Jack."

Sara hung up forcefully and turned back to Grissom. Without a word, both knew the moment was lost.

Sara tried to get it back. "So, where were we?" She tried to sound sultry, but her voice cracked.

"Sara, I...who's Jack?"

"Jack is my boss at the garage. They have an engine to rebuild. I told them I'd work overtime tomorrow, so I could get tonight off."

"Oh. Uh, Sara, I don't..." he trailed off.

"Don't say it," she said warningly.

"I don't think this is a good idea."

Sara had an impulse to stamp on the floor and pout. Then throw something at his stupid head. She settled on glaring daggers at him. "Oh? And why is that?"

"You're too young...you're my student..."

"Technically I'm not your student anymore. Class is dismissed, _Professor. _ And we've established that I am an adult with free will and can be with anyone I want to be with," she said firmly, hands on her hips.

Grissom quailed a little at her look, but doubts were swirling and the _what ifs? _were becoming insistent.

"Our reputations...careers...I don't want to just...spend the night, then fly away. I'm sorry, Sara."

"Sorry? For which? For getting me all worked up and then walking out? For going back to Vegas? For wining and dining me for two months and then leaving? For God knows how long..." Her lower lip quivered and she fought desperately to keep hot tears from spilling out.

Grissom saw that she was fighting back tears and stepped forward. He laid his hand on her shoulder and struggled to find words. Sara shoved him away and turned her back.

"You're a goddamn tease, you know that? I'm not going to beg...for sex. I've never had to, and I'm not going to start now! Leave me...with a shred of dignity, at least. Get out."

Grissom turned without another sound, gathered his clothes and shoes, and went out, closing the door quietly behind him. Sara burst into tears with loud sobs. He could hear her cry through the door and felt like an asshole. _You're walking away? With a throbbing boner? There's a beautiful woman in there who wants you. What the hell are you doing? _But his feet took him down the stairs and to the parking lot automatically. He looked back, just once. Sara was silhouetted in the doorway, gripping the railing and looking at him. Her hair tossed in the warm breeze. That silken dress swirled around those incredible legs. And he bounded up the steps, swept her into his arms and lifted her. She hopped up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Grissom kicked the door closed with a bang.

Sara was clinging to him and kissing all over his face desperately. Grissom carried her to her bedroom. He let her slide down his body. They both gasped. He shoved her dress up to her waist and caressed her thighs and firm ass. Sara attacked his shirt, yanked it out of his trousers and unbuttoned it, then shoved it off his arms as he lifted off her dress and tossed it aside. Sara dragged off his undershirt, then started on his fly, caressing his hard cock through his trousers. Grissom moaned, bit his lower lip, and closed his eyes, his hands stroking the smooth skin of her back. Sara put both hands in Grissom's underwear and seized his hard-on, pumping him. Grissom groaned, reluctantly pulled his hips away, and unlatched her bra.

"Please, don't...Gonna come."

Sara hummed and slid her hands around to squeeze the perfect roundness of his buttocks. His mouth closed on a breast, licking her nipple. Sara grabbed his head and cradled it to her. Gris switched to her right nipple, sucked it avidly and hummed against her breast. Heat and desire.

His hand slipped between her legs. Her panties were slippery with fluid and she felt hot, so hot, so ready. His balls were tight and his throbbing cock leaked.

"Oh, honey, so wet."

"Can't wait," she whimpered. "Need you. In me. Mmmm. No...uh...no more foreplay."

Grissom faced her, his eyes smoky dark with desire. She looked wanton and thoroughly kissed and he wanted to bury his cock in her pussy. _Now_.

"Do I...uh, need...a condom?"

"No," she said huskily. "Patch."

He seized her under her buttocks and tossed her on the bed. Sara bounced and then scooted back, watching him hungrily as he shoved down his pants, hopped from foot to foot to remove them, along with his socks. Grissom stuck his thumbs under the waistband of his briefs and tugged it down just an inch, exposing the head of his cock. She sat up on her elbows and eyed him. He smirked as she licked her lips and pushed down her lace panties and tossed them over her shoulder, never looking away. Slowly he pushed down his underwear, kicked them aside, and fell to his hands and knees over her glorious nude body.

"So, so beautiful, honey," he moaned.

She stroked down his chest, flattened her palms across his back, and pulled him down to lie between her legs.

"Can't wait...any longer." Grissom gripped his erection and pushed it once, twice, through her wet pussy, slicking it up, then guided and sank the head into her opening. Sara sucked in a breath and grimaced.

"Am I hurting...you?"

"Uh...just give me a second, to adjust. You're...big."

He held his hips still and kissed her deeply, slowly, his tongue sliding around that marvelous mouth, that warm wet welcoming mouth. _At last. At last. I'm making love with this beauty. _

He slid in a little more, then more, and when she dug her fingers into his backside, sank all the way into her, the feeling incredible.

"God, Sara."

"_Oh, _Gil. So good. Yes."

"Baby, you feel perfect." They rocked together a minute, then he drew back and thrust into her. The box springs squeaked. They moaned and grunted and breathed heavily. He thrust harder, pushed his face into her neck. Licked and sucked. His orgasm overtook him. A pulsing white light and rush of pleasure made him stiffen and then collapse.

When he could see again, Grissom pulled out and rolled to the side. "Sorry."

Sara rolled on top of his chest and stroked his cheek. "For what?"

"I couldn't...You didn't..."

"Come?" she chuckled, then stopped abruptly when a flash of hurt crossed his face. _Don't laugh at me. Makes it worse._ "Honey, don't be sorry. I rushed too. I couldn't wait. And you've been hard for me..."

"Since the day we met," he supplied, feeling better.

"Continuously?"

"Pretty much." They were both laughing now. "Except for the times I was jerking off, thinking about you."

"Well, I've been hot for you...for your body...since that day, too."

"Yeah?"

"Oh, yeah."

"So you're not disappointed?"

"Not at all. I'm in bliss."

"How about I make it up to you, then."

"Bring it on, big guy."

**TBC**


	10. Chapter 10

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER TEN**

Grissom didn't need a clearer invitation. With the overwhelming urgency of their bodies sated for the moment, he took his time and made love to Sara. Thoroughly. From head to toes and back again. On his way back up her long legs he nuzzled her inner thighs, bestowing little kisses on that sensitive smooth skin. Sara parted her legs and let the sensations banish any thought. Grissom licked up along her moist cleft, parting her labia. Sara gasped. He tasted his come mingled with hers. Intoxicating. The smell, taste, feel of this woman, the intimacy of the moment...it made his head swim. Her fists clenched in his hair and her hips jerked whenever his mouth found a particularly responsive spot; her moans and reactions and urgent instructions taught him how to bring her to orgasm. And Grissom was always a quick study. Again and again she clenched and grimaced and arched and cried out, until she couldn't take any more and pulled his head up to hers. He sank inside and they rocked together slow and steady. A gentle and satisfying lovemaking.

Sara pulled his sweat-slick body close to hers, and kissed him. Their legs tangled, their arms encircled, their breaths mingled. Afterglow. She nestled into him and they fell asleep.

Every few hours one or the other awoke. And they made love again. By the time the morning sun shone in their sleepy eyes, they were happily sore and practically inseparable.

"I could get used to this," Grissom said into her hair. Sara made a hum of agreement.

"If only..."

"Yeah," she said regretfully. "Gil?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm glad you came back."

"Me too." He kissed her. "When do you go to work?"

Sara looked at her bedside clock. "In about four hours. When's your flight?"

He sighed. "I don't want to think about it."

"Shower?" she suggested brightly, and they shared their first, with the chance to look at each other's bodies upright and well-lit. Then it was time for breakfast. Sara made eggs and toast and Grissom prepared coffee, smiling at each other. When the dishes were done, they curled up on the freshly made bed. Grissom suddenly smirked.

"What are you grinning at?"

He pulled out his phone and pushed a button. "Hello, Brass? Grissom. Hey, I missed my flight."

Sara snickered. Grissom fought a grin, holding a finger to his lips.

"Yeah, well, it happens. And the next two are booked solid. I'll have to call when I can get a seat." Sara could hear a sputtering reprimand. Grissom didn't seem to mind a bit.

"Decomps? Happy to. Nice talking to you, Captain." He clicked the phone shut and Sara giggled at him.

"Are you going to be in trouble?"

"Nah. Well, he'll get over it. They've done without me this long, what's another day?"

"But I have to go to work."

"I'll be here when you get home."

Sara was touched. "Thank you." Reluctantly, she stirred, put on a red flannel shirt and a pair of greasy overalls. Grissom put his suit back on and beamed at her.

"Now what?"

"Just comparing to what you were wearing last night. And you're still gorgeous."

Sara pursed her lips. "Yeah, right. Do you know how handsome you are?"

His eyes twinkled. "Am I?"

She snorted. "Huh. Like you don't know. With half the student body flirting with you."

He grabbed her around the waist. "The only _student body _I'm interested in is right here."

Sara giggled.

Grissom walked her to the garage, kissed her goodbye, then made his way to his hotel room to get his bags, check out, and go back to Sara's. Of course all the mechanics saw the exchange and teased Sara mercilessly for the first half of her shift. Sara just shook her head, grinning. She liked these guys. They were rough and crude, but she had earned their respect. _They treat me like one of the guys, and like a lady too, _she mused._ I like working with guys. Women, well, they're complicated. Touchy. Competitive. Guys are just...easier. _

A couple of hours went by. Sara was on a creeper under a Buick, absorbed in her work. Suddenly another person slid alongside her. Sara squawked in surprise. Her coworkers guffawed.

"What the...? Gris? What are you doing here?"

"Hey." He gave her his adorable boyish smile. "I brought you dinner."

"Dinner?" she repeated, still stunned.

He kissed her and slid back out, tugging her after him.

"I brought enough for everyone," Grissom announced, digging out freshly made deli sandwiches and passing them out. The guys were grateful and retreated to the breakroom to give them a bit of privacy.

"My hands are all greasy...let me wash..."

"I'll feed you," Grissom offered, and he did, bite by bite, watching her mouth with pleasure. He looked so adorable that she kissed him between bites, then laughed when she got grease on his nose and cheek. They washed up and she walked him to the corner, gave him her key and a kiss, and went back to work.

Another passionate night passed. Sara sat up in bed and offered to accompany Grissom to the airport.

"I'd rather remember you like this," he teased, cupping her bare breasts and kissing her long neck. "Besides, you have class."

"Yeah. I have class."

He chuckled. "In every sense of the word, dear."

So they both dressed and got ready to go their separate ways. Oddly, it wasn't a sad parting. The bond had been built. The tension and anxiety were eased. Their relationship had deepened. Grissom called a taxi and they kissed one more time.

"Goodbye..."

"No, not goodbye, honey," he said. "I'll see you again."

"Okay." She smiled into his eyes. "See you later."

Any of her lingering doubts were banished when she checked her messages after her morning labs. Hearing Grissom's cheery, affectionate, voice saying he'd arrived safely, was on his way to work, would call her when he had the chance...Sara had a sudden feeling of shifting into a new and happy life. From now on, there was a time before Grissom, and a time after that special Sunday in August. BG and AG.

Grissom's supervisor, Jim Brass, tried to be stern. But Gil's lighthearted cheer was infectious. It was so unlike him that they all noticed–Nick and Warrick and Catherine and Brass. When he offered to take them all out to breakfast after shift, his treat, they exchanged a look but happily agreed. They caught up on their time apart, telling each other the funniest little stories and incidents, kidding, teasing. Catherine tried to get to the source of his cheer but he just winked at her and changed the subject. Eventually they all got in their cars to go home and get some sleep. Catherine looked back through the window. Grissom waved. He watched her drive away and dialed his phone.

"Good morning, Sara. Did I wake you? Good."

**TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

Just as she'd finished high school with an urgent wish to be in college, and spent her senior year at Harvard impatient to be in grad school, Sara couldn't wait to finish her Master's degree and start her career. So she worked day and night. There was only one final–an oral exam with the whole Physics department–and her thesis to go.

She and Grissom talked whenever they could, and both said it was a bright highlight in their often long grueling days and nights of labor. Their emails were more for academic subjects and professional exchanges, or sent when they knew the other was sleeping. The phone calls were of anything and everything, personal and day-to-day stuff and whatever what was on the mind.

Grissom was Lead CSI with the most seniority on grave shift, and Jim Brass was his supervisor. Jim mostly gave out assignments and supervised from the lab. He was a cop at heart, a detective, and not a scientist. Grissom the scientist had the freedom to supervise crime scenes in the field, design and conduct experiments back at the lab, coach his newer colleagues, and consult with other labs that needed an entomologist. He had been fairly content with his lot, received satisfaction and recognition for his work, had good friends in his colleagues, and enjoyed his quiet hobbies; racing roaches, riding rollercoasters, visiting the body farm and such, but with Sara Sidle in his life, he experienced true happiness for the first time. He felt complete.

For Sara, it all came together in a single week in September. She finished her thesis, turned it in, and quickly returned it with the corrections required. The next day she was told it had been accepted and would be published by the academic press. She breezed through the oral exam with sincere compliments from all the faculty members. They asked what her plans were and when she told them of her determination to be a CSI, they expressed surprise but support. Sara gave them the contact information of the San Francisco Crime Lab Supervisor, Sam Connors, and they sent recommendations. Sara told Grissom of her results and that she had submitted a job application and he sent in a glowing recommendation as well. As soon as Connors read his letter, he called Sara to schedule an interview, but it was more of a formality than a test. Anyone who had earned such a recommendation from the famous Gil Grissom, one of the top-rated CSIs in the country, was a catch, especially for a humble lab like San Francisco's,

Sara went to her interview on Thursday. Within minutes she was asked, "When can you start?"

"Monday?"

"Great. We'll get your paperwork and ID badge then. Welcome aboard, Miss Sidle, and enjoy your weekend."

Sara was aglow with excitement. She stammered out her thanks and dashed out to the parking lot.

"Grissom! I got the job! I've been hired!" she yelled the second Grissom answered.

He whooped and cheered and she laughed happily.

"When do you start? What shift?"

"Monday. Graveyard."

"So we'll be on the same schedule. And you have no more school?"

"No more teachers, no more books..." Sara sang through the phone.

"I'd love to see you. Why don't you fly to Vegas so we can celebrate?"

"Why not? I can't think of anything I'd rather do."

Grissom met Sara at the airport and they ran into a fierce embrace and kissed happily for long minutes. He drew away and grinned at her.

"Wow, I missed you. I didn't realize how much until just now."

"Me too!" she shouted.

"Come on, I'll take you home and show you how much."

Sara grinned that special grin and her eyebrows danced with anticipation.

They fell into bed the minute Grissom got her to his townhouse and "celebrated" their reunion and her new career for blissful energetic pleasure-filled hours. Sara fell asleep in his arms. He lay awake and watched her sleep, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. So beautiful. It wasn't just her mouth, he thought to himself. It was everything, every physical feature. Her body, her face, her eyes, her brains, her loving heart, her generous spirit. Beauty in every sense of the world. If only she lived with him and not San Francisco, but still...he'd never lived with anyone and didn't know how that would be. In any case he thanked God he had gone back to her apartment that night. Grissom fell asleep with a smile on his face.

He woke to find her smiling brown eyes looking into his. They kissed happily.

"I was just about to wake you up," Sara said huskily.

"Oh, really," Grissom said, intrigued at her tone of voice. "Why?"

"So I could do this," she answered, instantly rolling him on his back, pressing his wrists to the bed, and starting to worship his body with her mouth and tongue. Gil never tried to resist. So she released his hands and stroked every part of his body, whispering how beautiful he was into his skin. She murmured how much she adored his smooth hairless chest, his broad shoulders, muscular arms and legs, his handsome face and that delightful cleft in his chin, as she kissed them all in turn. When he was aroused to the point of feeling ready to burst, Sara smoothly and slickly took him into her mouth. Grissom arched his body and all but screamed her name.

Sara took the same care as he had with her in this so intimate act. Letting his reactions and words teach her how to give him the most intense pleasure, then pausing and letting it build again. When Gil begged for release she brought him to orgasm in her mouth, feeling incredible satisfaction. They both groaned their thanks and snuggled together.

Gil suddenly remembered something. "Hey. Don't you have a birthday in September?"

"Tomorrow," she replied, feeling emotional that he remembered. No one had ever made much of her birthday, her entire life.

"Hm. I'll have to make it special then," he said. "In the meantime...would you like to have a tour of Las Vegas?"

"Love to."

They dressed and Gil drove her to the Strip. Whenever the spirit moved them, they went into a casino or other tourist place. Sara fed some quarters in slot machines and when the bells rang and the coins rained down she glowed and clapped her hands and they laughed happily. They meandered in any direction they wanted to, stopped for a drink at a bar or a bite to eat, visited the Bellagio Fountains and the kaleidoscopic lights of Freemont Street. Grissom saw his city again through her eyes, not just as addresses of crime scenes and suspects, and told her so. Sara told him that she learned a new appreciation of San Francisco that day she had been his tour guide as well.

"Hey. Let's go back to my place," he whispered, their heads close together and arms around each other. "I have to go to work in a few hours. Maybe I could show you around the lab too?"

"That would be great."

So they romped in bed for a while, then rested until it was time to get ready for the night shift. He asked if he could take her out to dinner with all his colleagues for her birthday and she agreed. So he made reservations at his favorite restaurant.

Grissom drove her to his crime lab, shooting her little grins along the way. He introduced her to everyone, from receptionist to sheriff, obviously bursting with pride and happiness.

"This is my girlfriend, Sara Sidle. She's just starting as a CSI in San Francisco."

The first time she heard him call her his girlfriend, Sara was shocked. But it sounded so right. As they left that room, she gave him a squeeze and whispered, "I like hearing that. I like being your girlfriend. It sounds good."

"I'm proud to call you that," he said, and kissed her on the nose. Sara giggled.

Every time they met another CSI, Grissom asked him or her to join them for dinner before shift the next night. Almost everyone said they would be there and looked forward to it.

When Catherine shook her hand, she gave Sara an appraising look. "So _you're _the reason Gil has been so chipper since he got back from San Francisco."

"Am I?" Sara looked at Grissom.

"Yes, dear."

"I'm happy for both of you. He needs more than bugs to keep him happy."

Grissom took her into every lab and introduced her to all the lab techs as well. Greg Sanders bit back a wolf whistle when he saw her, and cursed to himself when Grissom introduced Sara as his girlfriend. _How did he get so lucky?_ Greg gave her a warm hello and showed her all the lab equipment, talking nervously as he usually did in Grissom's presence.

Grissom pulled her away when Greg began breathlessly described the inner workings of the GCMS machine.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Sidle."

"Sara, please. And you as well, Greg." She flashed him her Sidle grin and Greg could only stare at her dumbly. _Wow. I think I'm in love. _

Soon it was time for him to get started, so Grissom walked her to the corner, flagged down a cab, gave her a key and a kiss and said he'd be home in the morning. He went to work whistling.

**TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER TWELVE**

The birthday dinner was a big success. Sara had made sure that Grissom didn't tell them it was her birthday, so they wouldn't feel awkward about getting a gift for someone they had just met. As far as the other CSIs knew, it was a dinner to congratulate Sara Sidle on getting her Master's and being hired as a CSI. And a chance for Grissom to show her off. Everyone at the dinner had been on the job for years and a new eager friendly colleague was heartily welcomed. They all vied with each other to give her advice and tell her their favorite case stories and the table got loud with shouts and laughter. The cocktails flowed and they all got loose, except for the two who had to go to work that night.

Sara began to feel like she'd known them all for ages, especially Nick and Brass, when they felt an instant platonic connection. Brass beamed at her and said he knew she would do well. Catherine sized her up as she always did, automatically, inwardly decided she was no threat, and welcomed her wholeheartedly as a sister in a male-dominated field. They had an intense conversation on that, though Sara privately decided she would never exploit her sexuality as Catherine advised. Warrick was charmed and charming. He made her laugh and blush. And Grissom mostly sat there with a big goofy tipsy grin, soaking it all in. He'd known his friends would like Sara, but not that they would practically adopt her. They all gave her hugs and told her to call them whenever she needed advice or just someone to listen as they left one by one.

Grissom flagged down the friendly waiter and got the two of them coffee. They smiled at each other as they sipped it.

"You have a good team."

"The best," Grissom said without hesitation. Sara nodded.

"That was fun," she said.

"It was. More fun than I usually have...in social situations," Grissom said thoughtfully.

"So you guys don't get together like this often?"

"They do. I just..."

"What?"

"I prefer to go home, usually. Alone."

"You prefer your own company?" Sara felt troubled. _Is this going to be a problem?_ "Are you a loner, Gil?"

"I suppose. Or maybe it's because I've always lived by myself."

"So have I, but..."

"But what?"

"I don't necessarily like it. Or need it. I'm not...I like company."

"Before I met you, I would have said so, that I prefer to be alone. But I...I prefer your company, now."

"Wow, Gil. That's a lovely thing to say." Sara's whole face lit with a smile. "Sweet talk like that might get you lucky tonight."

"Waiter! Check please!"

Sara laughed heartily.

When they returned to Grissom's townhouse, there was a box with a big red bow blocking the entranceway.

"What's this?"

"Your birthday present," Grissom said, suddenly feeling shy. "I hope you like it."

Sara flashed a brilliant smile at him. "I'm sure I will. Hm. Heavy."

She carried it to the couch and set it at her feet, then paused, kissed his cheek, and squeezed his hand. "Thank you," Sara said softly, with sincerity.

"Huh. You don't know what it is yet." Grissom was surprised at how touched she seemed.

Sara opened the box, and gasped when she saw the shiny aluminum. "A kit. My own crime scene kit?" Suddenly her eyes were glittering and her lower lip was trembling.

"Hey! Hey, honey, don't cry! It's just..."

"It's lovely. Perfect. I'm just not used to..." She grabbed him into a tight hug. Grissom held her close, wondering why his practical gift had caused such an emotional reaction.

Sara pulled away, wiped her face impatiently, and opened the kit. "Fully stocked, too," she said wonderingly. Sara pulled out each item and Grissom happily explained its function and techniques of use, while she listened with her characteristic intensity, asking just the right questions so that Gil had no doubt she was practically recording his every word. As usual when he was with such a good student, his endearingly professorial nature emerged, and the knowledge that accumulated and flourished in his genius-level brain flowed freely. It was only when Sara yawned that he glanced at the clock. 4 AM.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to go on and on..."

"Oh! Don't apologize. I want to learn."

"You do, don't you." He smiled at her affectionately. "I love that about you." They both froze for a moment. It was the first mention of the L-word. They looked into each other's eyes appraisingly. She gave a barely perceptible nod and he relaxed. _Yeah. _They didn't need to say it. Yet, anyway.

So Sara flew back to San Francisco on Sunday and Grissom went back to work. Everyone told Gil how impressed they were with Sara. He just smiled. They spoke briefly when he was at a scene and he wished her luck. During the next shift he was uncharacteristically nervous and distracted. When Catherine had to poke him to get his attention, she insisted he tell her what was on his mind.

"Nothing. Well, uh..."

"Is it Sara?"

Grissom's face cleared. He liked how direct and perceptive she was. Sometimes! "Yeah. It's her first shift. Just wondering about her."

"Call her," Catherine said abruptly.

"I don't want to interrupt."

"Look. You two have a connection, right?"

"Yeah. Yes, we do," Grissom said, suddenly realizing it was true.

"And Sara is probably nervous as well. First day on the job? It's a bitch." Grissom nodded. "So give her a call."

Grissom did.

"Hello? I mean, this is Sara? Um, Sidle." she said, sounding flustered.

"Hey, it's me." He heard an exhale of relief and smiled. _Catherine was right._

"Gil. I'm glad to hear your voice."

"Rough night?"

"Oh, it's...it's something else. Boss yelled, I got the jitters, I'm clumsy."

"You, clumsy?" he teased.

"Yes, Gilbert." He could almost see her purse her lips in amusement through the phone. "Me. The one who spilled an entire tray of instruments in autopsy."

He grinned and his voice reflected it. "How did you do that?"

"Rushing out to puke."

His voice softened. "Oh. Well, everyone pukes at their first full autopsy. I did."

"No you didn't."

"Okay, I didn't."

"You trying to make me feel better?"

"Always."

"Well. It's working."

"Good."

"Thanks. Hey. I should go."

"Yeah, get back to work, rookie," he said with exaggerated sternness.

Sara laughed that deep chortle that made everyone around her smile. "Call me later?"

"I will. Have a good night, Sara."

"You too, Gil. Thanks for calling."

Grissom clicked his phone shut and gazed at it, not really seeing it, but instead her pretty face, full of life, enthusiasm, her enchanting profile, her long slender hands, her smile...Catherine had to poke him again. Hard.

So the days slid into weeks and the weeks into months. Sara flourished after the usual bumbling first day. She took as many extra credit classes and seminars as she could squeeze into a 60-70 hour work week. She had a knack for finding evidence. For evaluating a crime scene but with enough savvy to re-evaluate it when the evidence changed. With an impressive solve rate, a tireless presence in the lab, a bulldog tenacity to close cases, mathematical brilliance–the whole package–she got recognition and commendations right away. Within 8 months Sara was promoted to CSI Level 2. Something that usually took at least two years. Yet she didn't let it go to her head or dull her edge. She enjoyed a friendly competition and got along with all her teammates, except for one sexist pig. But she managed to avoid him and be chilly and professional when she had to. Sara made it clear to all that she was taken and not interested in dating. Just work. Oh, a friendly beer or breakfast now and again, but nothing more.

Grissom kept in touch faithfully. Their phone calls were brief, but that was only because they were filling in the blanks in their heads, in tune. When he was caught up in a case he only had to mention it and she understood. She honed into her cases now too and the rest took a back seat until it was done. They didn't always talk about work, but two workaholics in the same profession? It was only natural.

Sara had the phone in the crook of her shoulder as she folded laundry.

"How's Sin City tonight?"

"Mayhem and murder. The usual. Sheriff says graveyard is getting too much overtime."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. We're busting the whole city budget, if you believe that. The solution is to hire a rookie CSI, so we can go home on time."

"But you'll have to train..."

"I know! We'll be working _more_ hours until she gets broken in."

"She?"

"Yeah," he sighed.. "A young woman, fresh out of the academy. Name's Holly something."

**TBC**

A/N: Relax. We're going A/U next chapter.


	13. Chapter 13

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER THIRTEEN**

"So how did the new girl do last night?"

"Who?"

"You know, the rookie."

"Oh. Her. Poor kid didn't even make it through her first shift!" Grissom said with mock mournfulness.

Sara chuckled. "Tell me."

"Well, she almost fainted when I took her blood. Was repulsed when I offered her a chocolate grasshopper. Then Brass yelled at her because her mother pushed her to go to the police academy, and then used her influence to get picked as a CSI at our lab..."

"Which is the top ranked in the country," Sara supplied.

"Right," Grissom said proudly. "Then, Holly, Holly Gribbs that is, watched her first autopsy. She got woozy and ran out, and somehow locked herself in the body freezer!"

Sara laughed. "Now I don't feel so bad!"

"Good. She panicked and I had to rescue her."

"Her knight in shining armor."

"Yup." Grissom smirked. "So then I took Holly to her first crime scene, a simple holdup at a liquor store. Dropped her off, told her to dust for prints, and call if she had any problems. Less than an hour later, I get a panicky call saying the owner had her at gunpoint!"

"What!" Sara was incredulous.

"Yeah. Apparently she gets held up regularly and took it out on Holly. So I scooped her up and took her back to the lab for a cup of coffee and a talk. She said the job was not for her and clocked out with 4 hours to go on shift."

"Wow. You know, I remember a certain hot professor saying this job is not for everyone..." Sara said seductively.

"Do I know this hot professor?" Grissom joked.

"You should. Handsome, brilliant, sexy as hell..."

"It's a wonder this prince could string a sentence together with a siren like you in the audience."

"Well, he did have a raging hard on all the time," Sara smirked.

Grissom blushed, grateful she couldn't see him through the phone. _She saw! She knew!_ He cleared his throat and changed the subject.

Holly Gribbs switched to Traffic and led an uneventful life until retirement. Neither Grissom nor Sara ever mentioned her again, and without their knowing their lives took a different direction that night.

A few days later, Sara called Gil.

"Hey. We have a case that has your name all over it."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Lots of bugs and beetles. We need to establish a timeline to nail the bastard husband..."

"Hm, sounds like a job for a forensic entomologist."

"Interested?"

"Very. I just wrapped a long case and Catherine can run the circus for a few days. Let me call the airlines..." Grissom switched to planning and logistics mode and was on a plane bound for San Francisco within 2 hours.

Sara met him at the airport, bouncing on her toes until she saw him come through the gate pulling a carry-on on wheels. She waved exuberantly and his face transformed with pleasure and anticipation. Grissom swept her into his arms and twirled her around and she laughed and kissed his head and face. Setting her on her feet again, Gil gave her a deep soulful kiss. When they broke apart long hot minutes later, Sara was breathless and dizzy. He laughed at her dazed expression and she smacked his arm lightly.

"Not fair. We have to go work now, you CT."

"CT?" Gil said, puzzled.

"Never mind." Sara's cheeks blushed a lovely shade of pink. "It's a crude expression for someone who gets their partner all ready for a roll in the hay..."

"And then stops." Grissom smirked at her.

"Exactly. Now, about this case..." They walked to Sara's car, deep in conversation. This was their first experience working together as CSI colleagues, and both were surprised at how easy it was. They were natural partners, compatible and in sync. Grissom showed her how to collect the various species of invertebrates present and how to collect them and keep them alive.

The one thing they couldn't do was keep their hands off each other. It had been almost a year since Sara's birthday weekend, and both were horny. They gravitated into each other's space, sometimes without realizing it. Her fingers landed on his shoulder. He took her elbow to help her up a slope. She handed him a bottle of water without being asked and he squeezed her hand. He brushed some dust from her cheek and smiled in her eyes.

One of the cops assigned to body watch nudged his buddy.

"Looks like Slim has a boyfriend."

"Huh. I thought she was a dyke."

The first cop punched him in the shoulder. "You think any chick that won't go out with you is a dyke!"

"No, I don't...okay I do." He laughed at himself and the other cop joined in.

At last the scene was documented, the body sent to the morgue, the evidence collected and dropped off. Grissom started a timeline and Sara watched and assisted, determined to master the process. He talked her through it. She fetched them two mugs of fresh coffee. They discussed the case and wrapped up for the night. Gil blew out a breath. Sara wiped her damp hair from her face.

"Tired?"

"Some," he admitted. "Close to a triple, now."

"Let's go to bed."

"Best idea I've heard all day."

They left the building holding hands.

**TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN**

The drive home was complicated by exploring hands and panting breaths. Their mutual fatigue melted away into passion by the time the lovers got to Sara's apartment. Grissom took one quick sweeping look around before pouncing on her and pushing her against the wall. They tugged each other's clothes off impatiently. Gil sucked her tongue into his hot mouth and she stroked his throbbing erection. He bit and sucked on her neck and pinched a nipple.

"_God._ I've missed you. Want you."

Sara growled in assent as she licked his ear and slid her hands down Grissom's back, scratching it with her fingernails. Grissom felt consumed...blind...with desire. He turned her back to him and nudged her feet apart. Sara spread her legs. He hugged her around the waist with one arm and explored her inner thighs and pussy with the other hand. Sara shivered. He bent his back over her, coaxing her into position, then pushed himself roughly inside. They groaned. He gripped her hard. Bit her shoulder like a rutting beast. Sara thrust back into his hips and blindly grasped his head in an elbow. Grissom fucked her, hard and fast. As his hips thrust he slapped and pinched her ass in turn. Sara flinched and stiffened.

"Hey! Easy, tiger."

"Sorry," Grissom mumbled. He dug his fingers into her hips instead and rammed into her until he climaxed. Grissom pulled out and turned her around to embrace her sweat slick body to his. They kissed deeply. Sara took his hand and led him to her bedroom. Grissom stretched out and Sara disappeared into the bathroom.

When she was gone a long time, Gil became concerned.

"Hey? Sara, are you okay?"

There was a muffled response, then another pause. At last Sara returned, wearing a worn T-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. Her face seemed closed off.

Grissom's brows knit. "Honey?"

She threw the sheets aside and got in bed, then lay facing away. Grissom draped an arm over her and took her hand. Her skin was cold.

"Sara? What's wrong, honey?"

She tried to say nothing was bothering her, but when he insisted, she sat up cross-legged and faced him.

"Gil. I need to tell you something."

Grissom sat up against the headboard, mirroring her serious expression. He took her hand and stroked it encouragingly with his thumb.

"Go ahead."

"I...when I was a child..."

"Yes?" he asked gently, his eyes kind.

Sara told him, bit by reluctant bit, about the horrifying abuse in her childhood home, the trips to the hospital, the broken bones...and the butcher knife slammed fifteen times into her father's chest by Sara's mother, when she could take no more pain. Grissom, aghast, said nothing, but his eyes were pained and filled with tenderness. Sara broke down into tears. He pulled her to his chest and cradled her against his skin until the sobbing lessened.

Sara drew a shuddering breath and looked up at him. Her sweet face, so vulnerable, so sad, so hurt...it made his chest heave and his heart ache.

"Oh, honey." He kissed her tears, kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her forehead, the corners of her mouth. "Oh, Sara. My Sara."

They rocked together, letting the pain flow through them and away, and both drawing comfort from the embrace.

Sara pulled away and wiped her face and nose. "Sorry," she muttered.

"Don't be. Don't ever be sorry for sharing your story with me, okay?"

She nodded.

"So, uh, why did you tell me this...tonight?" he asked hesitantly.

"You, um, got a little rough. And that...brought up some bad memories. I would hear...my father...fucking my mother, when he was drunk, or when he was done hitting and slapping her around. The sounds."

"I'm so, so sorry..." Grissom was deeply ashamed. "I never wanted hurt you...never...I got carried away...goddam I'm an ass...oh, God, Sara...I'm...please, forgive me?"

"I do. It's okay. You didn't know...and now you do, right?"

"Right," Grissom said regretfully. "God, I hurt you! Is it bad?"

Sara shrugged.

"Let me see."

Sara showed him the bite mark on her shoulder, the finger shaped bruises on her hips, a reddened nipple. "I bruise easily," she said quietly. "My body. And my heart. Don't bruise me, babe."

Grissom kissed each place reverently, whispering endearments into her skin. Finally he pulled her close and lay her next to him, on the same pillow, face to face. He stroked her silky hair.

"I love you, Sara." It seemed to come out easily. The truth does.

"Yeah," she breathed, searching his blue eyes, a tiny smile emerging. "You really do, don't you?"

"More than I can say. I love you so much."

"I love you too, Gil." They kissed and then curled up together like puppies and went to sleep.

Grissom and Sara went to work together the next day, in what he soon learned was her regular time–two hours early. He did the same, so didn't really notice. They checked on their bug timeline and that their evidence was being processed, then wandered to the breakroom to get some coffee and assignments. Grissom called Catherine and had a lengthy conversation. Sara flipped through a journal.

When an older man, short, in a wrinkled suit, came in, Sara brightened and stood up. Grissom did the same.

"Gris, this is my supervisor, Sam Connors."

"Gil Grissom? Your reputation precedes you." He shook hands enthusiastically. "Not to mention that Sidle here brings your name up every five minutes..."

"I do not..." she protested weakly. Gil snickered.

Connors teased her with an exaggerated woman's voice. "Grissom says...when I took Dr. Grissom's seminar...Grissom would do it this way..."

They were all chuckling. Sara protested, but it was obvious she liked him and was enjoying herself. Within minutes the rest of the team assembled and were introduced. They were all very friendly. A intelligent and warmhearted woman roughly Sara's age, with shoulder-length blonde hair–Maggie Rankin. She kidded Sara about her infatuation with Grissom, making her giggle when she gave him the once-over and winked approvingly at her. A serious-looking dark haired man in his forties–Sean Waters. The last to arrive was a lanky young man who looked familiar. He lit up and went straight to Grissom.

"Dr. Grissom! Great to see you again, sir."

Thankfully the name connected to the face quickly. "Justin." Grissom smiled broadly. "So you work here too?"

"Just started. Sara has been great about showing me the ropes." He looked at her admiringly and she smiled back fondly. Grissom might have been jealous but recognized how innocent their relationship was, just by the way they looked at each other. He also noted that Sara had assumed a leadership role, probably without being aware of it. Whenever she spoke they all listened attentively. She and Connors seemed to more colleagues than subordinate and supervisor.

Connors gave a little speech about how grateful they all were to have the renowned entomologist helping them out, then handed out assignments. They dispersed and Sara and Grissom went to work. As they did, Sara told him a bit about each of her teammates, clearly having found friends in all of them, including her boss. Grissom commented on his team in turn and the time went companionably. The case broke late in the shift. The husband was brought in for interrogation. Grissom quietly watched Sara question him, piling up piece after piece of damning evidence, until he cracked and confessed. He was led away in handcuffs. Sara remained seated. She shook her head, deep in thought. Grissom took her hand.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said automatically. "It just...it just never seems like enough. We nail these guys, but their wives have already gone through hell. And then get killed. We can't stop them before the abuse gets chronic." She sighed. He squeezed her hand.

"And I guess this means you'll be going back," she added.

He did, but not for long. Whenever SFPD had a case that could use his expertise, and assuming he wasn't consumed with his own cases, Grissom would fly in. Whenever Sara had a few days off–and Connors was good about scheduling–she would visit Grissom. Grissom worked a case or two with each of her teammates and she with his–they were working vacations. A year passed. Sara closed her 100th case and advanced to CSI Level 3. Grissom had 13 years seniority on her and a doctorate, but Sara had caught up to his rank and pay grade. And slowly she was raising the solve rate and ranking of the San Francisco Crime Lab, just as Grissom had done in Las Vegas.

**TBC**


	15. Chapter 15

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER FIFTEEN**

"Hey, if you don't need me for anything, I'm going to take off."

"Go ahead, Sidle," Connors said cheerfully. "Great work on the case."

Sara grinned at him. "Thanks, Sam." The case had seemed to be going nowhere, until a single piece of evidence she'd collected, a bit of black plastic caught in the zipper of the killer's jacket, broke it wide open and led to his arrest.

"Thank The Doc for me too." Somehow Grissom had become "The Doc" and Sara was always "Sidle". Everyone else was addressed by their first names, except for her. It was a little joke between them, of uncertain origin.

"Take tomorrow night off, too," Connors added.

"But...I need to..." Sara sputtered.

"That wasn't a suggestion. Do I have to show you your overtime chart?"

"No, boss." She smirked at him.

"Have fun with your boyfriend. Just don't wake the neighbors, okay?"

Sara blew him a raspberry. He chuckled.

"Love ya too, chickie." He waved and returned to his papers.

On a sudden impulse, Sara went back inside and hugged him around the neck, giving him a loud smack on the side of his balding head. Sam blushed and pretended to be offended, telling her not to get any ideas, just because of his irresistible charms. Sara chuckled and went home.

Grissom had dinner started when Sara got to her apartment. She gave him a happy kiss and filled him in on what had happened since he left. He waggled his eyebrows when she told him she had the following night off too.

"Hmm. I see a missed flight in my immediate future."

"Airport was fogged in," Sara supplied.

"A wing fell off at the gate." Grissom grinned and she giggled.

"Hopeless traffic jam on the way to the airport."

"Pilot locked his keys in the car."

Sara snorted. "What keys?"

"The keys to the airplane, of course."

"It's a good thing you use your powers for good. That's quite an imagination you have."

They laughed and ate a simple dinner, grilled fish and boiled potatoes and salad and white wine, chatting and cracking jokes. Sara did the dishes since he had cooked. Grissom made coffee and produced a box of chocolates with a flourish. Sara squealed. They curled up together on the couch and watched TV, feeding each other and exchanging chocolate-flavored kisses.

Grissom woke up with a crick in his neck and a 5' 10" brunette sprawled on his chest. Her leg was hooked around his thigh, her hand was up under his T-shirt and her nose in his ear. He gently tried to wake her up.

"Five mo' minutes," Sara mumbled.

"Sara."

"Go away."

"You're on top of me," Gris complained.

"You're comfy," she whined.

Deciding the subtle course was going nowhere, Gil pushed her toward the back of the couch and stood up. He scooped her up.

"Hey!"

"Time for bed."

"You woke me up to take me to bed?"

"That's right."

Grissom settled her in bed, changed into his boxers and spooned up against her warmth.

The next thing he knew, it was late afternoon (morning for them) and he smelled coffee brewing. Sara came in, smiled that enticing Sidle smile at him, and handed him a mug. They sat up in bed and sipped it.

"So what do you need to do today?" he asked lightly, and yawned.

"Oh, nothing much. I have some chores to get done. Laundry, groceries, pay the bills..."

"Sounds good."

"Won't that be boring for you?"

"Boring is nice," he said, his eyes shining with honesty. "Being...domestic. With you. I like it." He picked up her hand and played with it, dropping it to the bed and then grabbing it again.

Sara kissed his cheek and smiled. "I like it too, babe." He gave her a happy little kiss.

She felt his bristly cheek. "Are you going to grow a beard?"

"I could. What do you think?"

"I think it would make you even more good looking. Devastatingly handsome, in fact."

"Done."

She laughed.

So they puttered around, comfortable with each other, not needing to entertain or impress each other in the slightest. Sara did her chores. Grissom got his laptop out and noodled around with a journal article he had been working on for months. They ate when they were hungry and napped when they got tired. By the middle of the night they were wide awake, so they made love playfully and unhurriedly. They lay together afterwards and competed to give each other the most creative and original kiss, complete with silly sound effects. Sara giggled until she was nearly breathless.

The phone rang. Sara gasped and flinched.

"Ignore it," Gil suggested.

"I can't. It sounds important."

"Huh?" _How can one ringing phone 'sound' more important than another?_

"Sidle." A long pause. "Oh God. No." Her eyes went wide. Her mouth twisted in a horrified grimace. Her whole body stiffened and went cold. "NO!" Sara threw the phone across the room. She turned away and sat at the edge of the bed, hugging her knees.

"Sara? Sara, honey, what's wrong?"

She seemed to be in shock. Grissom moved and hugged her to his side, searching her face.

"Sara? What happened?"

"Sam. Maggie. Sean."

Grissom felt a cold shiver run up his spine at the tone of her voice. He held his breath in dread.

"There was...a crash. They...they were all killed." She collapsed.

**TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER SIXTEEN**

**(2002)**

Sara threw some clothes on and then stood, unmoving, unseeing, at the door, keys in hand. Gris caught up with her and touched her arm after she didn't respond to his voice.

"Sara? What are you thinking?"

"I was supposed to work tonight...so I should have been with them..." she looked up at Grissom with a very odd expression. "I was supposed to die tonight."

"No! No, honey, it was just an accident. Please don't think that."

"Then why did they all die, and I'm still alive? Why?" she yelled, suddenly angry. She shoved him away and ran out the door.

Grissom caught up with her at her car. He called her softly and she spun around, her eyes blazing.

"It's not right. It's not..." She gasped and beat her fists against his chest. Grissom stood and let her. Then he gathered her in his arms, pressed her close to his barrel chest, when the anger dispersed. They held onto each other tightly. Sara finally stepped back, wiped her eyes, and gave him a small thankful smile. They drove to the crime lab.

Justin was there, looking shattered. When he spotted Sara he grabbed her in a fierce hug and sobbed unashamedly on her shoulder. Sara stroked his hair and murmured to him. Gil stood back, not knowing what to do with himself.

The lab director, assistant director, a police captain and some men that he didn't recognize came in the room. They stared back at him and he took the hint, waved and blew a kiss to Sara and went out to the parking lot. More people rushed in through the glass doors, barely glancing at him. He walked away in the darkness until he could see some of the stars. Grissom sat with his back against a tree and gazed upwards, thinking of the short lifespan of man versus the incomprehensible timespan of a star's life. He thought of carbon and DNA and time and space and eternity. The stars out there, huge balls of flame and heat, and from here a tiny spot of clean pure white light. He said his own goodbyes to the three good CSIs who had welcomed his Sara into their circle and become her teammates. When he got cold, Grissom walked back to the CSI parking lot and waited for Sara.

Sara was urged to take the head of the table. Suddenly there was so much to do. Family notifications. An investigation of the accident. The case that Sam, Maggie, and Sean had been on the way to when the crash happened. Funerals to plan, and burials. Which members of the day and swing shifts to cover the aching gaps in the graveyard shift. And that was just the first of many such meetings.

The crime lab SUV had been broadsided by an oversized pickup truck and a driver jacked up on meth, with a blood alcohol level of 0.21. He barreled through a red light doing 90. The driver survived the crash as a paraplegic. Sean and Sam were on the side that was hit. Killed instantly. Maggie survived the initial impact but bled out before she could be cut out of the wreckage. A senseless loss.

Maggie Rankin had a big family–four sisters and a younger brother, and a bunch of mothering aunts who took charge when they saw how overwhelmed Sara was. Sara gave a eulogy. She broke down after describing Maggie as a sister. "We even had the same birthday." Grissom led her from the podium to the crisp outdoor air. The reddish dirt was sliced out of the green covered earth in a sad looking pile.

Sam had an ex-wife, bitter and silent, who seemed to be looking for someone to blame for the accident. Fortunately he also a had a tiny bird of a mother, with a sweet smile and kind eyes, and an accent she could not place. Mother Connors cooked for the crowds that attended all three funerals, all with a coterie of police officers in full dress uniforms.

Sean had no family, which made it even more heartbreaking. The team was his family. And it was Sara's family too. Losing one of them would have been tragic. Losing three at once was devastating. But she soldiered through it all. She kept Grissom at her side. He called Las Vegas, explained what was going on, and took some of his considerable vacation time to be with her.

After the sad and necessary tasks were done, Sara was called in for a meeting with the sheriff and the other higher-ups. She asked Grissom to drive and he settled on a bench to wait. To his surprise, Sara came out again within fifteen minutes. Without saying a word, she took his arm and practically dragged him outside. In the privacy of her car she finally spoke.

"That was...gratifying," Sara had a ghost of a wondering smile. "They all said very nice things...compliments on my job performance." She finally met his eyes. "They asked if I would be supervisor of graveshift." She looked as if she were still processing the request. Grissom took her hand.

"What did you say?"

"I said Yes." They looked at each other in the eyes. She looked surprised at herself and he looked pleased and proud. "And I have the power to hire anyone I like." His eyebrows rose as he read her chain of thought.

"Dr. Grissom?" she said formally, seriously, squeezing his hand. "Would you be willing to transfer from the Las Vegas to the San Francisco Crime Lab night shift?"

There was a pause. Grissom thought about what he would give up. Las Vegas? He doubted he would miss that depraved city. Friends, sure, good friends. But his girl had lost her friends. What kind of friend–what kind of boyfriend–would he be to just say 'See ya around," and go back to Nevada? He was fond of all that he worked with. But he wasn't in love with them. None of them shared his bed or held his heart. None of them were Sara.

"I'd be honored."

"Yes?" she sounded delighted.

"Yes." Grissom gave her his rare full toothy grin.

Sara made a throaty chuckle. Her face glowed–literally glowed–with her blazing smile. "Good!" She hugged him around the neck. "Good! Thank you." Grissom heard her laugh for the first time since that phone call, and his heart lifted. _I made the right decision._

**TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Note**: My deep apologies. This story hasn't been updated in months–since June of last year? Can that be? I'm almost embarrassed to post a new chapter, feeling so guilty for leaving this and the other two stories unfinished for so long.

I had crippling writer's block, and then when I started to get ideas again, I reread some of my work and decided it was crap. At the time I was reading hundreds of other stories for a FanFiction contest on GSRFO and by comparison...mine paled. So instead I immersed myself in reporting the latest news on CSI, all the episodes, the cast, the characters, put all my creative energy into the website. I could go on with excuses but that isn't very interesting.

My gratitude to all of you, kind reviewers, who have kept after me, asking for more, saying they missed me...I missed you too! I missed this. Reviews are most welcome.

For a while there I wasn't sure I'd ever start writing fiction again. The longer it went, the easier it became to just put it off some more...I put it so far back in my mind I forgot the story!

I'm sure you've forgotten it too, so for any of you still following along, let's recap.

**Recap:** Our story begins at that Berkeley seminar, and the first meeting of Grissom and Sara. He's the guest lecturer on forensics, she a grad student in physics. They are smitten with each other, deeply attracted physically and emotionally and intellectually. They have fun together. Date, innocently. But the rules prohibit more. Grissom becomes her mentor instead. Sara flourishes. Grissom leads the class on a field trip to the crime lab. Sara discovers she was born to be a CSI, and kisses him in her excitement.

On the night before he is to return to Las Vegas, Grissom takes her to a faculty dinner and dance.

GSR gets hot. He takes her home but stops, almost leaves, but at the last minute comes back. Smut ensues.

A long distance relationship begins. Sara becomes a CSI at the SF Lab, and they travel back and forth both for professional and personal reasons.

On one of his visits to San Francisco, Sara gets the horrifying news that three of her co-workers, including her beloved supervisor, were killed in a car accident. Sara is thrown into the aftermath. She is offered the job of nightshift supervisor and accepts. Her first official act is to ask Grissom to transfer to her lab. Grissom says Yes. The second part picks up 15 years later...

**AH, THAT MOUTH**

**CHAPTER SEVENTEEN**

It wasn't easy. Supervisor Sara Sidle had to be more roles, to more people, than she ever had before. And it wasn't just the added paperwork. There were new CSIs to hire and break in. There were schedules to create, meetings to attend, bureaucracy to tackle. As well as assignments to hand out and personnel issues to deal with, though thankfully her team was not very particular or taxing about that.

Justin and Grissom understood that she was learning as she went along, so they didn't ask for much or complain about their treatment. She'd never been a boss before, hadn't even thought about it, and resented the necessity of putting distance between herself and those she supervised. Especially supervising her lover, when said lover was a lot more experienced and had natural leadership abilities.

Sara was a perfectionist. And she was overly sensitive to criticism, to the point that she imagined it when it wasn't there, or at least not as severe as she felt it. She felt the scrutiny of those in command acutely.

Those in command had only one major issue with her performance–that relationship with Grissom.

**(2017)**

Officer Rosen was on body watch. He had a rookie partner for the first time in his career, so he felt like an old timer. Guild seemed like a good young man, he noted, green as onions but with potential. Rosen wasn't like the other cops–he didn't believe in hazing or throwing a new guy into thorny situations, especially on their first night of duty. _The kid deserves better._

Rosen waxed on about the job, various assignments, their fellow characters in uniform, the type of criminals they dealt with, the mean streets...Officer Enzo Guild was a good sort and let him talk, paying attention. Frank Rosen was grateful for the assignment; to make sure the scene was secured and the CSIs safe as they did their gross and smelly job. He liked CSIs. And he wished he'd had someone to explain in detail on his first night and beyond. This was a good night.

Rosen was in mid-sentence when he glanced over Guild's shoulder. A look of awed recognition took root and he straightened his shoulders. Guild, curious, turned around. An older man with silvered curls and a handsome face lined with experience and intelligence stepped quietly into the room. Just behind was a tall slender woman, her auburn hair cut short with a natural wave. A mature feminine beauty to counter his mature masculine beauty. Enzo took a breath and sucked in his belly. Both were in standard navy blue Forensic jackets and dark pants.

The man glanced in their direction. "Frank Rosen," he acknowledged, and set to work. The woman also looked at the senior officer and gave him a soft grin before stepping carefully around bloody footprints and hugging the wall. Rosen looked proud of being recognized.

"Well, our vic just got lucky tonight," Frank said at last, still watching the two CSIs.

"How do ya figure that?" Enzo asked.

"He has a 90% or better chance of getting justice. Those two...don't you recognize them?"

Enzo shrugged and shook his head.

Frank gave him a puzzled look. "That's Dr. Grissom and Dr. Sidle!" he said. "The CSI Paradox. They're...they're legends in the field. The pair-of-docs. Get it? Paradox."

"What's the paradox?" Guild said encouragingly.

"It's a paradox that they solve so many crimes without getting burned out. That they have stressful careers and work together 24/7 yet remain happily married..."

"They're married?"

"Yes. Equal partners. Former co-supervisors of the SFPD unit."

"Co-supervisors?"

"About 15 years ago, there was a terrible car accident. Three of the five nightshift CSIs were killed. Only Sara–that's Dr. Sidle, she kept her maiden name, so people wouldn't confuse her with her famous husband-and a new guy were left. Sara was made supervisor and asked Dr Grissom to transfer from Las Vegas. They'd already been involved for a few years and it was awkward for her to supervise him, since he had seniority and experience. And management didn't like the whole fraternization thing–wanted to discipline them–so she threatened to quit. And take Dr. Grissom with her. So Dr. Grissom popped the question, they got married, problem solved."

The senior officer took a breath and checked that the rookie was still paying attention. He looked rapt. Frank continued the tale, purposely pitching his voice loud enough to reach the two busy senior investigators, so his admiration was clearly conveyed. He saw Dr. Sidle glance at her partner, give him a sly wink, and his eyes crinkle in amusement in response.

"Dr. Sidle agreed to stay only if the two of them could share the supervisory position. It was so successful that other labs adopted the policy. Dr. Sidle and Dr. Grissom campaigned nationally until the rules were loosened and romantic relationships were tolerated within the same forensic team. They said–she said–that with the life they led, with so much death and despair, if two people could find love and happiness within their lives, why forbid it?"

Officer Guild looked impressed, nodding for Rosen to continue.

"Well, Dr Sidle was a great CSI before they got together, and so was Dr Grissom. His specialty is forensic entomology–you know, bugs and maggots and stuff–and hers is materials analysis and physics. But together? The dynamic duo. The superheroes of CSI!" Everyone chuckled.

"San Francisco was a mediocre lab before those two took it over. Not coincidentally, Las Vegas was the top-ranked lab until Grissom left. And it's never recovered."

"Before long, San Francisco attracted a dynamite team. Once their reputation was established, the pair-o-docs started getting called out to consult on cases all over as well. Lab directors started sending their new CSIs to train at SFPD and then come home and share what they learned.

"Sara Sidle went back to school as she was mentoring these young guys and finished her doctorate. They co-authored _A Handbook To Forensics, A Handbook To Evidence Collection, A Handbook on Forensic Entomology–Bodies with Bugs..._all classics!"

"Dr Grissom had been doing seminars for years, but then the demand became so insistent that both he and his wife started to do them together. They promoted from within and left our lab in good hands, then started traveling all over, giving seminars on forensics and helping out on tough cases. So it's rare to see them work a scene here. That's why I say our vic got lucky."

"I get it." Guild watched them process with new understanding. Occasionally one would murmur to the other, point out a newfound piece of evidence, or offer a theory about the crime. They worked like halves of a perfect whole. They exchanges subtle, affectionate touches, endearments, and glances. It was obvious to the watching officers that they were still deeply in love.

After hours of intensity, once the body was carted away, the photos flashed, the evidence bagged and packed away, Grissom put out his hand and Sara grasped it, tugging him to his feet. His knees cracked. Sara shot him a look of sympathy. He just shrugged. With a tilt of his head and her small nod, they silently agreed to head out. Grissom affectionately laid a broad hand on her shoulder blade, guiding her ahead of him.

When he paused before the two officers, Sara glanced at them as well.

"Frank," Grissom greeted. "This your new partner?" Officer Rosen nodded, obviously pleased again to be recognized by a lion in his field.

"Yes, sir," the younger man piped up. "My name is Enzo Guild." They shook hands.

"And this is my wife, Sara Sidle." The two shook hands as well. "Pleased to meet you, sir, ma'am," the rookie said, blushing a little.

"Welcome to law enforcement. You're in good hands."

"Thank you, sir," both policemen answered.

"No sirs, no ma'ams necessary," he said easily. "Call me Grissom. Everyone does."

"So, uh, Grissom," Officer Rosen said cautiously, testing it out. "What brings you both here? To this case?"

Grissom glanced at his wife with a soft smile. "It's the anniversary of the day we met," he answered. Sara nodded. "We always try to come back to San Francisco to celebrate that. And then a call came in while we were at dinner."

"And how did you two meet?" Rosen said encouragingly. He was a little surprised at himself, but wanted to get to know this couple better, and continue the conversation.

"I was a guest lecturer at Berkeley, and she was in my class. Sara was my student." Grissom looked to see if they recognized the significance, and they did. "Could have been quite the scandal. Especially since she's 15 years my junior."

"What can I say?" Sara added. "Once we shook hands, it was a done deal. I never looked at another man. Never looked back."

"Yeah," Grissom said, now seeming to only address his beloved, not anyone else. "I knew too. You were the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen."

"Gilbert."

"Still are."

"Hush."

He chuckled. "It was the whole package, but mostly? It was your mouth."

"My...mouth?" Sara was puzzled. This was news to her.

"Yes, dear. You have a lovely mouth. And a radiant smile." Sara beamed at him.

"See?" And they all smiled. It was infectious. "Your voice, your lips, that cute little gap in your teeth..."

"Stop," she said playfully. "You're making me blush."

"I know," he said. "But I like it. I like making that cute mouth smile."

**THE END**


End file.
